


Wherever You Go

by MapToWhereIAlreadyAm



Series: Maybe. Perhaps. Possibly [3]
Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Action & Romance, Bounty Hunters, Excessive Drinking, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Injury, Jealousy, Medicinal Drug Use, Oral Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Rebels, Rough Sex, blasters, establishing a relationship, original star wars locations, post-AND
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-09-12 17:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9082702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapToWhereIAlreadyAm/pseuds/MapToWhereIAlreadyAm
Summary: Eight months after Gorse, Hera took the first bold step into a relationship with Kanan, but it's tenuous as she struggles with conflicting concerns and obligations.A figure from Kanan's past and an operation to an old Republic outpost are haunting reminders for him, pushing him to make a difficult decision.Both are unsure how to be together as a couple when the reality of being rebels keeps throwing obstacles in their path.





	1. Longing

**Author's Note:**

> Updates are scheduled every two weeks on Wednesdays(ish) and I'll update the tags as needed. 
> 
> Rating for the whole work is Explicit but most of it falls in the General or Teen level. I'll give a head's up when we encounter a sexy chapter. Chapter 1 is not one of those.
> 
> Thanks to HLine for beta reading!
> 
> I suspect this reads fine without reading the other two works in this series ([Maybe. Perhaps. Possibly](http://archiveofourown.org/series/562111)) but you might get more out of it if you read Susurrations and Ardor first.

All women might be magical creatures, but Kanan was beginning to think he might have been wrong about Hera. She certainly wasn't a lowly forest nymph. And even a wizard wasn't adequate in explaining her. He had underestimated her. He suspected she might be a demigod, so perfect in every way that mattered. Somehow set above mere mortals, yet still of this world.

 

At this moment she was in the galley. One hand on a datapad, the other was working on making caf.

 

Kanan was sitting on the bench, on the far side of the table from her. Legs stretched in front of him, he leaned his back against the wall. The picture of contentment. Dirty dishes cluttered the table. The remnants of bread and soup were evidence of their shared meal. It wasn't fancy. Kanan's cooking was just passable, but Hera hadn't complained. Plus the company had been fantastic. Even with all the unspoken things hanging heavy in the air.

 

Hera fiddled with the caf dispenser and then cursed. A comforting (to his mind) muttering of damnation. It was jammed again. She set aside her reading and then bent low to peer into the machine's innards, presenting Kanan with a tantalizing image. The tips of her lekku curved over her shoulders. They tended to fall behind her. So when they were in other positions, it was an opportunity to see her anew, as if she had changed her outfit. Now, she seemed younger, reminding him of pigtails he recalled some younglings wearing at the Temple.

 

The outline of her profile was stunning, green luminous skin sharp against the gray of the galley. Her forehead was furrowed as she puzzled over what could be wrong. Kanan could almost hear her thinking in her sexy timbre, _ "Might be the filter. Maybe not aligning with the gasket... Or perhaps the drip line is clogged again..." _

 

His eyes followed the points of interest of her face. The faint spray of eyelashes around her green eyes, the arc of her nose, the curve of her cheeks, the point of her chin. They lingered on her mouth, pursed at the moment as she considered her options for fixing the dispenser.  He recalled some of the things he had learned that her mouth could do in recent months - where it had been, how she had used it. Kanan's breathing became shallower. He remembered the tiny moans and sighs that had escaped all too rarely through barely parted lips.

 

As if she could hear his thoughts and decided to tease him, she chewed her lip in concentration. Kanan felt himself stir at the flash of white teeth pressed into the peach of her lower lip. But he was content to sit and watch her, afraid to break the quiet spell he was under.

 

He began to reconsider his nonchalance when she started disrobing.

 

Technically it wasn't disrobing. But it felt like a prelude to something erotic when Hera pulled her gloves off. In reality, she just needed more dexterity to fiddle with something in the machine. She stopped at the gloves after all. Extending her index finger, she reached inside to probe it, as she looked towards the ceiling, concentrating on the feel of the problem.  Kanan had to close his eyes at this point. He could turn the most mundane moment with Hera into something worthy of poetry. The most exquisite, kink-filled poetry.

 

He opened his eyes again when he heard the access door snap shut and the familiar gurgling sputter as the machine started up again.

 

"It'll take more than a jammed caf dispenser to slow this Twi'lek down." Hera's comment was for herself, but Kanan couldn't help but agree. He felt something tighten in his chest at her declaration. How was it that he found this woman and that she was his lover?

 

He wished he could wrap his arms around her. He wished he could tell her, "I fear for whatever gets between Hera and her mission." But because he couldn't act out the first part, he hesitated about speaking the latter.  Their relationship was tenuous, and it made Kanan uneasy.

 

He was feeling something significant, something he wasn’t ready to admit to. But they were pretending it wasn't any big thing. The disconnect scared him. He wanted to hold back emotionally, but it was like holding back a flood. He only got wetter when he fought against it. He felt as if he was fracturing. Shards of himself were breaking off trying to maintain lover-Kanan and crew-Kanan and friend-Kanan and no-I-am-most-definitely-not-a-Jedi-so-attachments-are-fine-Kanan. Even Caleb would show up from time to time. That was the scariest part of all. He was becoming more and more confused about how to be himself, whatever that meant.

 

He struggled with his thoughts, engrossed in them. It was only the sound of a mug sliding across the table towards him that caused him to look up. Startled he reached for it, as she was pushing it towards him. And in that exchange, their fingers brushed. Her bare fingertips just grazed the skin of his knuckles. Kanan sucked in his breath, at the electricity it generated in him. It had been more physical intimacy than they had shared in days.

 

"Sorry," he said.

 

He knew how skittish he sounded, apologizing for an accidental touch. The last time there had been skin on skin touching between them, was when his cock was deep inside her. It sounded almost absurd when he considered it, that he was unhinged by a brush of fingertips against his hand.

 

She responded with a hummed acknowledgment. 

 

Those were Hera's rules. After the first amazing night on the Ardor, there had been a moment back on the Ghost. He had reached out to touch her. Not with any intention of it going anywhere, just a reassuring intimacy. Kanan’s hand slid down her back as he moved past her in the doorway. She had paused, leaning into his touch for a brief moment before pulling away, with a “nuh-uh” and shake of her lekku. He was hurt. Not that she saw it; she wouldn’t meet his gaze. The look in her eyes as she walked away ate at him. It was longing and determination in one bitter-sweet moment.

 

Now he found himself skittish about any affection - whether it was physical or not. In a conversation, he could fake indifference.  His default defense mechanism was to banter or joke, masking his emotions when they showed up. He was a master at camouflaging how he felt. But it was harder to lie with one's body. Whether it was feeling himself respond to the sound of her voice or the way he had a hard time leaving the room when she was in it, his body knew he needed Hera.

 

“We’ve got another couple of hours before we get to Echea,” Hera said, referring to the wind-scoured rocky moon that they would be meeting her contact on. “You wanna take a break? I can take the helm. There’s some stuff I want to do before we land.”

 

Kanan nodded. “Sure, although I doubt I’ll sleep.” He gestured to the mug of caf in his hand.

 

Hera nodded, then paused as if hesitating about speaking.

 

Sensing it, he asked, “What’s up?”

 

She glanced down, long fingers wrapped around her cup, before looking at him. The glint of excitement in her eyes was hard to miss.

 

“I’m hopeful about this meeting coming up with my contact. It could be big.”

 

“Don’t tell me. Another local crime boss?”

 

She pursed her lips, part annoyance, partly suppressing a smile that he called it right.

 

At her acknowledgment, Kanan chuckled. “You and your nefarious connections. How do you find these characters? Wait, no. Don’t tell me.”  

 

She stopped blowing on her caf to level a gaze at him. “This one is promising. He has the potential to get us access to Imperial communications.”

 

He noticed her use of pronouns - “us” not “me.” Kanan found it both touching and unnerving. He had not signed up for her rebellion, yet he was increasingly tangled up in it. Sleeping with its leader didn’t help to keep things separate in his head.

 

“Just a snapshot - not ongoing monitoring. We don’t have the resources for that. But it would reveal all communications in this sector,” Hera said.

 

Kanan’s eyebrows rose.  “Wait.  _ ALL  _ communications?”

 

That would be quite a catch although he wasn’t sure what good a mountain of encrypted information would be.  

 

“But you can’t crack all of it, so how do you find the juicy stuff?” he asked.

 

“That doesn’t matter so much, although that would be great to know. Just having a brief record of who is talking to whom, even if we don’t know what is being said, would paint a pretty descriptive picture of what the Empire is up to in this corner of the galaxy. What they think is important, where their resources are at.”

 

She was spinning her mug in her hand as she talked, excited about the prospect of gathering more intel. “Just think, if we see loads of outgoing transmissions from Haidoral Prime but -”

 

Her eyes lit up as she spoke, her passion evident in her animated gestures, and that was hot. But Kanan held up his hand stopping her as he rose to his feet.

 

"Not interested."

 

It was true. Kanan would rather not hear the details. If he was honest, it was because he didn't want to care. Whenever Kanan started listening to her with any degree of sincerity, he noticed that he started giving a damn and that wouldn't do. Not when he might need to up and go at any moment - when the Empire pressed too close, when things got too familiar, or when too many people noticed him. Unfortunately, she was skilled at making her case. It was hard not to get caught up in her idealism when she made it sound so possible. Her hope sometimes felt like a drug when he just wanted to kick the habit.

 

"Tell me when and where to be, and I'll watch your back. But please don't convince me of how important this is."

 

He saw a flash of hurt cross her face and mentally kicked himself. He wasn’t trying to wound her. Kanan paused, trying to find the words to fix it.

 

“Sorry. I don’t mean to sound dismissive of what you are trying to do. But you know how I feel.”

 

It sounded weak to his ears. Hera's lips were tight, one brow arched as she considered his words. A small jerk of her head was her only acknowledgment. Kanan gritted his teeth, before letting his breath out a slow exhalation and turned on his heel.

 

A few moments later, he found himself in the forward gun turret. He had paused for a moment at the door to his room, but his feet kept walking, knowing something his mind hadn't registered yet.

 

He slid under the pilot console into the nose of the Ghost. The bubble of the turret made for a sublime spot to sit during hyperspace. The blue glow of millions of stars streaming by soothed the soul and induced contemplation the way bodies of water could.

 

It also was the spot most distant from Hera while still being on the Ghost.

 

Kanan didn’t want to be apart from Hera. Not really. But he did wish that he had some mental distance, some cognitive clarity over his relationship with her. He had been smitten from the moment he heard her voice on the darkened streets of Gorse. But he could feel himself falling into something even deeper. Knowing that didn’t help him understand why he felt so confused, though.

 

Kanan wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. Since the Purge, Gorse was the longest he had been at any one spot, and that was five months. The Ghost was going on eight months now. He tried to reason that they kept moving around. Because of this, he wasn’t in any more danger from the Empire than his previous jobs, laying low before moving on to the next world.

 

But complacency always seemed to catch up with him. This was when the Force, as much as he would try to deny its existence within himself, would start sneaking into his life. Both crisis and calm seemed to be triggers for tapping into the Force. And his Jedi training had been so ingrained that he could use it without thinking. If he had been younger when the Purge occurred perhaps it wouldn’t be so habitual. But then again he would have been executed with all the other younglings. Maturity hadn’t helped the Knights and Masters either. Kanan just had bad luck, it seemed.

 

He scrubbed at his face, drawing his hands down his cheeks before smoothing his beard with a tug.

 

Hera felt like the first bit of good luck in his life. And despite his mixed feelings on how they were relating, she felt like a blessing. A beautiful, passionate, blessing. She was both pragmatic and idealistic. She seemed open to all the suffering and hurt in the world, yet it never broke her. She was still hopeful. He suspected she had grown up under the war on Ryloth, although she never mentioned her childhood. But her spirit was still intact.

 

Hera seemed to care for him despite his apathy and indifference, so she must have seen something in him. Kanan doubted she saw a Jedi when she looked at him, and for that he was grateful. He certainly didn’t see a Jedi when he looked at himself. It would hurt too much to be used, especially for something as broken and cursed as his Force abilities.

 

Without conscious effort, his musings on Hera caused his mind to open up into something familiar, spacious and connected. It was like putting on a well-worn glove, so familiar that Kanan hadn't even noticed he had done it.  Instead of noticing what his mind was doing, he was distracted by a thought, an impression. It was new, yet recognizable. And it made his heart ache with a memory.

 

_ A round of Jedi initiates had been appointed to their new masters, the teachers who they would train under as Padawans. Caleb Dume had been chosen by Depa Billaba, and he couldn’t have been happier. _

 

_ There had been a celebration in one of the gardens of the temple. There had been food. There had been laughter. It was summer, late afternoon when the days could get no longer, and a breeze was just starting to stir the bugs making lazy circles in the air. _

 

_ Coruscant's ever present pollution had cleared just a bit. The sky had hints of white instead of the typical orangish hue, giving the light a diffuse, poignant quality to it. The contentment of belonging. The excitement of being alive. The laziness of a warm afternoon. But also the passage of time. The way all things change and grow and decay. Satiated, edged with a tacit knowledge that this too must end. An ordinary brilliance laced with melancholy. Somehow young Caleb had felt all this wrapped up in rays of light streaming across the garden at low angles.  _

 

Kanan felt his breath quicken at feeling those emotions again. The object of Kanan's attention conjured those memories, but it wasn't a memory. It was something new. Something he hadn’t seen before. It was an ephemeral, exquisite glow. So bright, so brilliant in his mind’s eye he wondered how he could have missed it. This thought - this impression- had pulled the memory forth, echoing those feelings of belonging and endings.

 

It was Hera’s Force signature.

 

“Kriff!”

 

Everyone’s signature was beautiful. It was the Force. How could it be anything but? Yet if he was willing to admit it, some part of him was curious as to what Hera looked like in the Force. It turns out that she was just as beautiful as she was in person. Stars! Of course, she would be.  He wanted to stare at it. To hold it. To cry.

 

But Kanan had stopped seeing people signatures years ago. He had not reached out into the Force since that terrifying moment on the Harvester when he had used it to stop the catwalk from crushing Hera. He had been so occupied with avoiding disaster that he hadn’t noticed her in the Force. 

 

And now Kanan had reached out to find her. Without thinking.

 

With great effort, he cut himself off from the Force. Trembling with the knowledge of what his mind had done, unbidden.

 

He had gotten complacent. Gotten too comfortable and reached out without thinking, just because he wanted to see her in the Force.

 

And it was incredible.

 

A heavy feeling settled in his gut. It was a sign. Tapping into the Force like this, unconsciously. No one would be the wiser to what happened here deep in hyperspace, but it was an ill omen nonetheless.

 

He knew what he needed to do. He needed to move on.

 

And he didn’t know if he could. Not this time.

 


	2. Commandeering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning sexy times ahead. If you want to skip it, it starts pretty early. Several paragraphs in look for "what are you doing?" then jump about half way down or until you get to "still on course?" The end notes will recap the plot related stuff that you missed.

Hera focused on the horizon as she piloted the Phantom towards the moon. The fuzzy curve of Echea’s surface was still more below them than at eye level at this point, but the black of space was giving way to the diffuse reddish glow of the moon's atmosphere. Othoa, Echea’s planet, loomed large in the viewport, a swirling luminescent pearl of a gas giant.

 

The spaceport they were heading towards was in an arid, russet colored plain, lacking in water and plant life. A fraction of a moon away Hera could see dark clouds billowing. Fortunately, sensors showed the weather at their destination was still clear. The clouds, sandstorms actually, were the reason they were taking the Phantom. It would be easier and cheaper to get a hangar for the little ship than it would be for the Ghost. The storms were harsh enough that taking cover made sense, while the Ghost would remain in orbit with Chopper.

 

Hera glanced over her shoulder at Kanan, giving him an update. "We'll be arriving in about an hour. We came at a good time. Between storms."

 

Kanan sat in a jump seat with his hands clasped and his forearms resting on his knees, looking at the floor as if deep in thought. He had opted to come with her. He usually did, but something seemed to be distracting him today, and she wouldn't have been surprised if he had decided to sit this one out.

 

He murmured an acknowledgment and bobbed his head, but she wasn't convinced he had heard her words.

 

Not for the last time, she wondered if she had made the right decision in stepping over the professional relationships she had established and making it personal. Kanan was important to her. He stirred feelings in her that were both tender and thrilling. And the physical intimacy was electric.  But Hera worried she had started something that couldn't be contained and would end disastrously for her. Or for Kanan. He had yet to reveal anything more about his past, but she sensed there were some deep-seated wounds that he tried to hide from everyone. She worried she was playing with fire.

 

Hera frowned as she tried to brush aside the thoughts. Her reasons for heading to this moon were too compelling to pass up, and she didn’t want to mess it up. She needed to stop worrying about Kanan’s moods. Despite knowing she needed to focus, Hera still startled when a pair of gloved hands closed around hers on the steering column.

 

"Hey!" she said.

 

"Hush."

 

"What are you doing?" She asked with only a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

 

Kanan answered with his mouth on her jawline. It was half kiss and half vocalization. A deep and rumbly, "Mrmdring."

 

The moist heat of his tongue and the sharp nips of his teeth sent a wave of shivers over her skin. But it was the heavy weight of his arms over hers and the way his chest pressed into her lek, which made her eyes slide close for a heartbeat. She hadn't realized how much she wanted to feel his body next to hers until he was right there, saying something entirely too loud and sexy near her ear cones.  

 

"What did you say?" Her voice was breathy, and she had to remind herself to focus on flying between the overwhelming sensations competing for her attention.

 

Kanan stopped kissing to grip her wrists. With a gentle tug, he pulled her hands off the steering column. Hera’s heart skipped a beat as she gave only slight resistance. His behavior was new and strange. Not quite dangerous - it was Kanan after all. But Kanan was normally deferential to her physical space. She was left wondering about his intentions and feeling confused by his closeness. Unsure what was going on, Hera froze in place, frowning.

 

Kanan pressed her further down into the chair, as he leaned forward. With practiced ease, he flipped several switches on the console. He had been a quick study and knew his way around the Phantom. She trusted him with her baby. Mostly. Her eyes flickered over the controls trying to determine what he had done.

 

The autopilot lights were illuminated.

 

"Hey! What-" She stopped mid-question as he spun the chair around. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leaned closer, speaking in a low, authoritative tone.

 

"I'm commandeering this ship."  Not aggressive, merely stating a fact. 

 

"What?!" she started to protest but then froze, her breath catching, as Kanan dipped his head towards her. His lips brushed Hera’s, first gently then more deeply.  The promise of the kiss outweighed whatever her mind was about to object to. She opened her mouth to receive more of him, one gloved hand cupping the back of his head, the other fisting his shirt.

 

How long had it been? Days for sure, maybe over a week since she had kissed him since they had made fevered love at a small inn after their last supply run. However long it had been, it felt too long. If his kiss was any indication, he was feeling the same way.

 

When they were kissing it was hard to think of anything else, but common sense began to rear its contrary head. Hera pulled away with a gasp and leaned her forehead against his, reluctant to break contact even though she knew she should. She had been worrying about Kanan messing with her priorities. And here he was willfully ignoring the rules she had outlined.

 

"No. We can't. Not on board," Hera said sharing exhalations with him. 

 

"No. 'Not on the Ghost.' Fortunately for me, we are on the Phantom." His eye twinkled, searching her’s as if it was a dare.

 

She opened and closed her mouth. "Well, not on a mission."

 

Kanan's hands moved to her collar, loosening it before lowering his head to her throat. "Mission hasn't started yet. Seems to me that we need to be dirtside for this particular one to start."

 

Hera’s pulse quickened when his lips found it, but she was still feeling conflicted. Kanan was refusing to respect the parameters of their relationship. It made Hera uneasy that he was disregarding her desires. Except he seemed to exactly know what her desires were as his hands moved down to her knees before skimming up her thighs. It was making it hard to think.  

 

"Kanan..." Hera began but uncertain how to finish.

 

"Shush," he whispered into the crook of her neck. "You're not in charge anymore, remember. I've commandeered this ship, and you'll have to do what I say now."

 

Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the way the vibrations of his voice felt as he trailed kisses along her clavicle, but Hera gave in. She would talk to him later about his cavalier attitude towards mixing business and pleasure.

 

She struggled to find her voice. "Does that make you a pirate?"

 

"If it turns you on." He removed his lips from her skin as he continued, "You can call me Captain or Sir or Kanan-please-don't-stop." The last was a couple of octaves higher than normal.

 

Hera responded by pulling him back to her body. "I think that makes it mutiny. Do you know what the punishment for mutiny is?"

 

"Punishment only matters if I get caught. And you're not going to turn me in.” Suddenly all mock serious, Kanan sat up to look intently into her eyes. “Are you?"

 

Hera struggled to keep from smiling at his faux panic. She took the opportunity to pull at his shirt, untucking it before he stopped her.

 

Batting at her hands, he reprimanded her, “Nuh-uh. I’m in charge.”

 

Her smile became a full laugh at his response. She had an idea of his physical capabilities, and yet he was playfully swatting at her hands.

 

Kanan ignored her laugh as he unfastened her armor, sliding it off. He had gotten much more adept at getting her out of her clothing after their first night. Kneeling at her feet, he unbuttoned her shirt. Hera ran her fingers through his hair, sliding the tie over her wrist. It cascaded around his face, giving him a vulnerable and feral appearance. It was a look that made her heart skip a beat.

 

He managed to tug her shirt off and then his mouth was everywhere, moist kisses and gentle sucking. She closed her eyes as she leaned back to savor the feel. Squirming at the ticklish spots, panting at the erotic ones. The swell of her breast, the inside of her wrist, her bicep, her navel. Hera sighed at the feelings he was bringing forth.

 

A thought tugged at the edge of her consciousness. Kanan had been introspective earlier in the flight, and now he was seducing her.

 

“You know I know what you are doing?” she murmured.

 

“Whatever I damn well want?” He gave her a devious look. A wave of desire passed through her.

 

“Just because you are distracting me doesn't mean we shouldn't talk about what's bugging you.”

 

“Me? Misuse sex?” His response was muffled as he flicked his tongue over a nipple through the fabric of her bra, making her shiver.

 

But perhaps he sensed something in her as he finally broke off from his kissing. His hands continued the slow, maddening stroking of her thighs but he looked at her in all seriousness.

 

Hera reached up to brush the hair away from his face. His eyes touched hers for a long moment. She thought she saw something there. Something vulnerable and open rippled through his expression.

 

Then it shifted.

 

And Kanan pulled her hand away, stripping her glove off in one smooth motion before bringing her fingers to his mouth. Hera's sigh of frustration switched to one of desire as he drew a finger in, sucking on it. The hot soft wetness of his mouth was surprising after the muted sensations of her glove, making her gasp. As his tongue swirled around her finger, she relaxed into his attention.

 

Ok. They needed to talk. Maybe just not this second.

 

Her eyes slipped shut at the sensation of mouth on finger, only to snap open again as his free hand grazed down her lek, before sliding across her belly to fumble with her flight suit. He dropped her fingers from his mouth to focus on the belt until she felt its sudden release. Hera lifted her hips as he pulled at the suit only for it to catch on her knees. Kanan switched to tugging off her boots, before returning to her pants, yanking them off with one deft motion.

 

Laid bare in front of a fully dressed Kanan, she let out a ragged breath and watched him as he watched her. It was a new and wanton feeling for Hera. Part powerlessness, part flaunting exhibitionism. They tended to strip together. Frantically frequently, but never aggressively. She could feel the way her body was responding to Kanan’s domineering.

 

Her pulse quickened as Kanan spread her legs wide to press closer. Would she ever get used to that feeling? The casual way he moved into her most personal of spaces. His eyes weren’t on her crotch or her breasts or skin but looking at her through lowered lashes.  She was unable to turn away from his intensity and licked her lips unconsciously. The movement lured him in, as he leaned in to kiss her hard.

 

This time, without the hindrances of her clothing his hands roamed everywhere. And they felt hot on her exposed skin, leaving traces wherever they caressed. On her hip and up her waist. Sliding behind Hera’s back, he pulled her close. She wrapped her legs around him, giving a little grind as she moved into his arms.

 

He held her to him as they kissed, more against his body than in the pilot’s chair. When he embraced her like this, she became aware of their size differences. They way he loomed over her, blocking out the light, wrapping around her, as if he enveloped her. She realized how physically vulnerable she was yet she trusted him. It created a pleasant frisson of emotions.

 

When they broke off the kiss, Hera’s chest heaved as she struggled to get enough air . Kanan’s hands found her naked breasts - when had he gotten her bra off? His head dipped to take her nipple in his mouth and she gasped. Arching her back, the muscles in her cunt contracted as his fingers and tongue worked on nipples. The bra swung loose from her shoulders. Hera writhed beneath his hands and mouth until her position shifted and her hips ground at his erection.

 

“Unhh…” An involuntary groan from Kanan.

 

Hera smiled at the effect and rolled her hips again, only she hummed this time getting a jolt of desire at finding the right spot. They started moving in time to each other’s hip thrusts, while Kanan continued to suckle on her breasts. Hera descended into a beautiful haze.

 

After several long moments, he broke her reverie. "Sit back," he commanded as he loosened her legs from his waist. Hera complied. His hands caressed the inside of her thighs, causing her stomach to clench with expectation as he got closer to her apex. When he reached her body, his hands spread apart to graze her hips bones before hooking under her underwear, pulling them off. When the moment took too long, Hera craned her neck to watch him from the awkward position she had slid into in the chair. He waggled his now bare fingers provocatively at her. His gloves tossed to the side.

 

Again he brought his hands to her knees, sliding them up her legs. This time she could feel the warmth of his bare palms on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Hera spread herself wide for him, inviting him in. Kanan rested his arms on her legs as he dipped his head lower. Hera bit her lip in anticipation, inching lower in the seat to meet his mouth. The hot wetness of his tongue pulled a small moan from her as he licked the line where her leg met her body. First along one thigh and then the other, purposely avoiding her sex but allowing his hot breath to linger, to tease her.

 

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you,” Hera muttered.

 

Kanan didn’t bother trying to talk with his tongue hanging out; he only nodded, incorporating the movement into his attentions on her thighs.

 

Every nerve in Hera was thrumming, waiting impatiently for the contact that he was teasing at. When the tip of his tongue finally dipped to press against her clitoris, she stifled a cry, reaching on tiptoe as she spasmed, her body rising towards him.

 

Kanan responded by sliding even lower on the floor and hooking his arms under her thighs, her knees thrown over his shoulders. His mouth took her in, alternating between pinpoints of pressure on sensitive nerve endings with wet waves of contact on her labia. Hera’s consciousness narrowed to only the point where Kanan’s tongue touched her. His mouth found a rhythm and Hera responded with little thrusts of her hips and small hitches in her breathing.

 

She was now more in Kanan’s arms than in her pilot’s chair. Only her head and upper back were in the seat. Her bare feet locked behind his back. This position gave her the advantage of more points of contact with him and room to roll her hips against him. But it also meant that he held a firm grip on her pelvis. She couldn’t escape his mouth, even if she wanted to. He had control of both her ship and her body.

 

Kanan’s mouth sucked, and his tongue pressed into her, dipping into her cunt, driving Hera towards her apogee. Kanan sensed it. As her body began to quiver, his licking intensified. When she lifted herself even further out of the chair, he shifted his hold in order to thrust a finger into her. Hera’s hands grappled to find a hold, first at her chair, then on Kanan himself. He responded by gripping her tighter, seeming to relish the effect he was having on her.

 

Hera had felt something building from the moment his mouth had first made contact, but she was blindsided by the intensity of the orgasm that wracked her body. Her fingers clutched at Kanan’s scalp as his head bobbed between her legs. Her hips were high off the seat as she twitched, climaxing.  Her only vocalization was a sudden inhalation as if she was gasping into her release - never to let it go.

 

But with the inevitable exhalation she sagged against Kanan and the pilot’s seat. His mouth had stilled, but his arms were still wrapped around her as she came down, supporting her limp body. He held her close as her breathing evened out.

 

"Ok, you can have your ship back." He was smiling at her between her thighs, a twinkle in his eye. 

 

Stars! He was too good looking to be toying with her like this, especially considering what he had just done to her. She chuffed while sitting up, untangling her legs from his grasp. Her higher brain functions weren’t working yet, and she paused for a long moment before adjusting her bra and pushing herself to vertical standing. Her legs wobbled as she began retrieving her clothes strewn about the ship. 

 

Kanan pulled himself together by tucking his shirt in, pulling his gloves on, and retrieving his hair tie from Hera’s wrist. He pulled it back into his usual ponytail, before dropping into the now vacant pilot's chair. Kanan scanned the dash, double checking the Phantom’s status.

 

"Still on course?" Hera asked as she tugged her flight suit up her legs. The autopilot was almost always accurate as long as nothing odd showed up in the environment. Some small part of her, the pilot in her, was always considering her ship.

 

"Nah, our heading has shifted ten degrees, " he replied.

 

“What?!” Hera hurried over, leaning on Kanan’s shoulder to look at the instrument panel, fastening the last of the closures of her top. He took the opportunity to fondle the tip of her lek when she moved into his personal space.

 

“I think you knocked it off target when you came.”

 

She let out a sigh of relief when she realized Kanan was teasing her. She turned and punched him on his shoulder.

 

“That’s for taking over my ship.”

 

“Owww." He said rubbing his arm. "Some thanks I get for commandeering!”

 

“I didn’t say not too. Just reasserting my position.” She found her goggles at the far end of the cabin. Pulling them on, she couldn’t even recall when they had come off.

 

“You can assert anything you want with me, Captain.”

 

“Uh-huh. You say that now.” Hera’s tone was dubious, but she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she came to stand behind him, leaning in to give him a lingering kiss on his cheek. Kanan smelled of her, and she smiled at the intimacy and for the casual touching. He returned the overture by holding her hand where it was splayed on his chest. The familiarity was nice. And rare.

 

“You learn how to… commandeer in pirate school?“ Hera asked with a smirk.

 

"Nah, on the job training.”

 

“Oh, yeah? Were you a quick study? Or the guy that needed lots of practice?” Keeping a hand around his neck, she moved to the front of the chair, sliding onto his lap. He looked at her askance, even as his hands left the steering column to rest on her hips.

 

“Are you wondering about my past lovers?” He couldn’t suppress the grin. “You aren’t jealous are you?”

 

Hera rolled her eyes, but she was curious. All of it. His past, present and future. His lovers, his family, his Force abilities. What was he avoiding? What was so overwhelming that he used sex to distance himself from it? And what did he want? Hope for? What motivated Kanan Jarrus?

 

“You know we don’t talk. About anything. If we’re in a relationship, it feels like it would behoove us to be more open about things,”  Hera said.

 

She thought she was being pragmatic, but Kanan’s gaze broke off from hers, looking out the window, suddenly serious.

 

The tension in the room grew but Hera resisted the urge to say something, to fix it. She knew she had a point and wanted to know where Kanan stood on this. Were they going to pretend neither had existed before they met on Gorse? That they often had conflicting motivations? That they didn’t have a past that impacted their present?

 

“Fair enough,” he finally agreed. “But you go first.”

 

She smiled, relieved that he had decided to take this small step. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

 

He looked thoughtful for a second. “Have you had other lovers besides me?”

 

“Who’s jealous now?”

 

“Are you avoiding the question?” he asked.

 

“Alright.” She took a deep breath. “Yeah. I’ve had other relationships.”

 

“More than one? You’re only 18. How long ago were these guys? Wait, guys?” Kanan asked, apparently curious.

 

“Yes, guys. And I’m 19.”

 

Kanan blinked. “You had a birthday?”

 

She nodded. “Yeah, a while ago.”

 

“You didn’t tell me.” She detected a hint of hurt in his voice.

 

“You didn’t ask.”

 

“But you’re still supposed to tell people,” he protested.

 

“Did you tell me when you had yours?” Hera countered.

 

“Well, no. Wait, how did you know?”

 

“I didn’t. I guessed, given how long we’ve been traveling together.”

 

“Oh.” Kanan frowned.

 

She couldn’t help but grin at his flustered look. “See! I told you we need to talk more.”

 

He opened and closed his mouth as if to speak, before tamping down his concerns with a practiced grin. “You’re right. Go on. You were telling me about your previous relationships.”

 

“There’s not a lot to tell really. I dated a boy off and on when I was younger. When I was first learning to fly, I crewed on a variety of ships supporting Free Ryloth. I met him on one ship. He was a couple of years older than me. But it was a young love relationship. After my mother died, my father -”

 

“Your mother is dead?”

 

“Yeah.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You know. War.”

 

Yes, communication was good; she just wasn’t sure she was ready to discuss her mother’s death. It was seven years now, but she was still adjusting. Fortunately, Kanan didn’t press her. His concern was palpable in the way his hand stroked her back.

 

After a moment he spoke, urging her quietly. “Go on.”

 

“Right. My boyfriend was a Togruta. I thought my father would disapprove if he ever found out but he was so distracted by his own life. He gave up keeping track of where I was, let alone who I was with.”

 

“What happened? With the boyfriend?”

 

Hera blinked, remembering. “I came to realize he liked me far more than I liked him, so I moved on,” she said shrugging.

 

Kanan seemed to be avoiding looking at her. “Hrmm. And the other relationship?”

 

With an eye honed by hours of familiarity, Hera scanned the instrument panel looking for anything amiss, as she thought about what to say. Her last relationship had ended almost a year ago, but it had been formative, and she realized she had never put words to it. It felt important to be faithful to what had occurred.

 

She finally said, “I wanted more experience than the piloting I was getting supporting Free Ryloth, so I went to a flight academy.”  

 

A slight shift in Kanan’s posture indicated his interest.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“Flight academy. I mean I figured you had to learn how to fly somewhere, I'm just trying to picture you there.”

 

“I learned a lot on my own. But I wanted more combat experience and more ships than I was getting with the crowd I was running with,” she explained. “How did you learn to fly?”

 

“Some sims, but mostly just by doing it.” He rolled his shoulders briefly by way of explanation.  “But we’re still talking about you.” For once he seemed to be only genuinely interested and not just trying to avoid a conversation. 

 

She furrowed her brow thinking about what to say next. “There was an instructor. A Mirialan. Just a couple of years out of the academy himself. He wasn’t teaching any courses I was in, fortunately. Midway through my first semester he asked if I wanted to try a prototype two-seater fighter he was test piloting -”

 

“Wait- you didn’t? In the ship?”

 

“No.” Her lips quirked at the memory. “Well, not that time. I jumped at the chance to fly the fighter, and we hit it off. We both tended towards … recklessness, in our flying - that I’ve mostly outgrown, mind you - but when we worked together it just sorta canceled out. We made a good team. We were together while I was training at the Academy. But he had a hard time with my interest in the Empire. He probably would have had a hard time with any of my interests besides flying, honestly. We never actually broke up, more like just agreed to see other people and grew apart. I haven’t spoken to him in about a year.”

 

“Not too long before you met me?” His tone was measured.

 

“I had been on my own for several months when I met you, so yeah, that would have been about right.”

 

Kanan was silent again, looking out at the cockpit window. The sky was ablaze now, an orange and red haze hanging everywhere, amplified by the sun low off their starboard side. The gas giant that the moon orbited had been a creamy white in space but was now pink and looming large above them. Hera rechecked the instrument display but allowed the autopilot to continue to fly. Perched on Kanan’s lap wouldn’t make it easy to grab the steering column.

 

It was good they were talking, but it was one-sided. Kanan was doing his best to put on a friendly face, but she knew him well enough to read his body language. It was clear that what she was saying unsettled him, although she couldn’t be sure what exactly it was. Was he surprised about her past? Or jealous? Or something else?

 

Clearing her throat, Hera pulled him out of his thoughts. “How about you?”

 

Blinking as if waking up, Kanan said with a forced casualness, “Nah.”

 

“No what?” she probed.

 

“No boyfriends.” A smirk crossed his face.

 

She chuffed. "Girlfriends?"

 

He was quiet for a moment before shaking his head.

 

"None? You've never had a girlfriend, lover, partner?"

 

"No. Just wasn't a good fit for...someone like me," he said his chin dipping down as he studied his hand on Hera’s knee.

 

“Wait, you weren't a virgin when we first-”

 

"No.” He shook his head. “There were plenty of ... people. Just no one serious."

 

Hera frowned, ignoring the plenty part, and tried to make sense of what Kanan was saying. He had been a total flirt since she first met him. This seemed to be at odds with never having a girlfriend.

 

And then as if he was searching for a way to satisfy her query, he suddenly remembered something. "Oh, there was one girl. We were inseparable for a while."

 

Glad to have something to work from, Hera asked, "Who was she?"

 

Kanan squinted, thinking. "I believe she was a waitress. Or maybe a dancer." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "I forget. We weren’t very good at talking," he explained.

 

Hera nodded knowingly. At least she wasn’t the first in that department.  "Well, how long did you see her?"

 

"Hmm, maybe a week."

 

"Oh." She said with dawning realization. “Like, physically ... inseparable, huh?"

 

He winced. “Yeah, basically.”

 

“So, what happened after a week?"

 

Kanan sighed, his eyes sliding shut for a long moment before speaking quietly. "Same thing that always happens."

 

"Which is?"

 

Hera rolled back and forth on Kanan’s lap as he fidgeted.

 

She waited for him, but when nothing was forthcoming, she placed a hand on his chest to reassure him. "We don't need to talk if you don’t want to."

 

He finally met her gaze and shrugged. "I leave.”

 

“Oh.”

 

She couldn't help but notice that he used present tense. He wasn’t just talking about one night stands from his past. She pursed her lips and averted her gaze. Thinking quickly, she wondered what he was trying to say. Was he warning her? Should she be worried?

 

It was always a possibility when you got into a relationship with someone. How much to trust them. With your safety, your feelings, your heart. But somehow Hera wasn’t afraid. Maybe she should be, but, she had no doubt about his sincerity for her. He was still as smitten with her as when she had met him on Gorse. Kanan wasn’t acting like a man that would walk out in the middle of the night.

 

No, she was worried for him. What sort of thing must a person be feeling to keep running away from connection? What had happened to him? She still only had suspicions that he had been a Jedi. Despite the events on the Harvester, he had given her no more clues about his force abilities, let alone admit as much. Still, if it was true, was that playing a role in who he was today.  She knew the Jedi had had rules against romances. If Kanan had been a Jedi, was he struggling with that rule? And if he was a Jedi, what must it feel like to have all your people killed and to be labeled a traitor? Was leaving a way of running away from the Empire? From his memories? From the past?

 

On impulse, Hera wrapped her arms around him. Kanan stiffened at the hug, not expecting the affection. Their intimacy ran either hot or cold. Hot and passionate when they were making love, and cold and at arm's length when they weren't fucking. This warmth felt forbidden because there was no room for it on the Ghost or a mission. It felt precious to Hera, and she wondered if he felt the same way.  Could he tell that she cared?

 

After a long moment, he returned the embrace tentatively at first before relaxing into her arms.

 

She spoke into his neck. "It's been what? Eight months since Gorse. That seems pretty good for a guy who's previous long term relationship was a week. You haven’t gone anywhere."

 

Her statement was almost a question, daring him to contradict her. Kanan nodded into Hera’s shoulder, saying nothing.

 

But she could hear a response, hanging unspoken in the air.

 

_... yet. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief recap if you skipped the explicit stuff:
> 
> Kanan makes some moves on Hera, playfully commandeering the ship. She tries to hold the boundaries she's set around when and where they can get physical - not on the ship and not on a mission. He makes the case that they are on the Phantom and not the Ghost AND they haven't started a mission yet. Hera gives in. She also realizes Kanan is using sex to avoid talking/thinking about difficult topics. End sexy stuff.


	3. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably General, maybe Teen, depending on how you feel about bars/nightclubs. No overt alcohol use. I'm not good on the subtle distinctions that happen in between totally innocuous and cover your screen while you read.

Steam rose from the bubbling pots as smoke wafted from the small fires lit under them stinging Kanan’s eyes. Late afternoon rays of light cut through the haze. He roamed the aisles of the bazaar not looking for anything in particular. The sooty acrid smells mixed with the heavy scent of warm bodies, the savory ones of cooking food, and a hint of something pungent and illicit being smoked.

They had left the Phantom in a solid looking spaceport before splitting up. Kanan was now roaming the streets of the Echean city, taking in the local color and people watching, while Hera met with her contact. The press of people was the distraction he sought for his wandering thoughts.

Every planet had its own flavor of people - its own unique culture - and Kanan enjoyed watching, talking, and being with the teeming masses. He wondered sometimes if it was a particular quirk of himself or something the Jedi had instilled. They had been the galaxy peacekeepers and finding a shared sense of commonality in all its inhabitants had a way of seeping into their teaching. This happened through coursework about the various cultures that made up the galaxy. But also through its emphasis on valuing all life.

It could also be his more recent history as a fugitive, bouncing from planet to moon to station. Walking the streets of this settlement, rubbing shoulders with the locals had a soothing effect on Kanan. As if he could drop everything, leave, and he’d end up alright. It was the same skill all migrants had to cultivate to survive.

But today, survival wasn’t on his mind. Well, not at the forefront, although it was never truly far away. Lately, it was more often than not, on Hera. Even when Kanan wished it wasn’t, she had a way of finding her way into his thoughts. Everywhere he turned he saw her.

In the way a little Rodian girl sassed her mother. Hand on her hip. Jaw jutted sideways. He couldn’t help but recall how Hera would stand when she was skeptical of whatever foolish thing he was saying.

Kanan stopped short as a street performer crossed his path. Their physical presence was dominated by their lithe movements as they worked the crowd. Hera moved that way. With a quickness and efficiency. Nothing excessive but every movement had a graceful surety to it.

Behind him, he heard raised voices. Someone was speaking fervently about a new injustice the Empire was perpetrating on Echea. Yes, that would be the same argument Hera would make, heartfelt yet edged with compassion.

Kanan pressed his palms into his eyes, shaking his head. Food. Maybe he could find the clarity he sought with something in his belly.

“Three,” a Kyuzo woman said to Kanan in stilted, muffled Basic.Her mouth was covered in a gauzy scarf, protection against the moon’s dust laden air. She held up three of her four fingers reinforcing her set price. Kanan handed over the credits, not up for haggling. In return, the woman passed him his food. Flatbread wrapped around something spicy and saucy. The whole thing was hot and wrapped in paper. Passing it from hand to hand, he scanned the tented space for a spot to sit and eat.

He found a perch on some hovercrates tucked off to the side. It was far enough away from the pungent smoke as to not get a contact high. Peeling the paper off his dinner, he blew on it, getting a faceful of steam. The street performer was working the crowd. Most ignored the artist, busy with their errands. But a few couples and families lingered, having come to the marketplace with a leisurely agenda.

Kanan’s eyes slid shut at the first bite of his food. Home cooked meals beat rations any day, but this was on another level. He wondered if he should have ordered a second for Hera…

Kanan sighed. He was infatuated. He couldn’t think more than two thoughts without wondering about Hera. Kanan had lusted after lots of people, men and women, in his past, but he’d never been so besotted. And never for so long.

Hera had probed him about his past on the Phantom. This inquiry was a new turn of events. And if he was honest, she was right. That if they were in a relationship they should talk. But he had been avoiding thinking about it. A relationship.

Finishing the last of the food, he wadded up the paper and threw it into a nearby bin. Resting his chin on his hand, he stared into the growing crowd. He needed to figure this out.

From the moment he heard her voice on Gorse until she kissed him so unexpectedly in front of the pirates, he had assumed (if even he dared to consider it) that it would be a quick romance. Because it had to be. Because it always was.

But Hera was different. And for the first time he was hoping it wouldn’t be a hurried love affair.

It was never a possibility in previous relationships. Not because Kanan hadn't wanted to commit to someone. He had enough self-awareness to see his insecurities and to realize he might not be capable of that. 

A one night stand allowed him to be consumed by lust while finding a shallow connection. It would be over before the self-loathing set in. It was a convenient way to circumvent his doubts. In the past, the question had always been how do I connect with the object of my affection? Followed immediately by how do I get out of this?  
Because if it wasn’t going to work with Hera, he needed to leave soon. Like last month soon. Every moment, every planet, every operation was another opportunity for the Empire to find him. He cared too much about Hera to put her in any more danger than she put herself.

But also because every glance, every touch, every kiss enmeshed him further with her. And he had no idea how to separate without breaking himself into pieces.

Kanan closed his eyes and banged his head against the crate behind him, willing clarity into his thoughts.

He loved her. 

Yes. That’s what he was feeling.

He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he couldn’t argue with the fact that she was the reason he got out of his bunk in the morning. It wasn’t a sudden realization but a slow, dawning understanding. One moment he was a happy-go-lucky fugitive and the next Kanan realized he’d been sucker punched. He wasn’t quite sure when this transition had occurred.

So he loved her. He didn’t know if she would say the same about him. There was attraction, to be sure, but she also seemed to have one foot in her rebellion, constantly thinking about how to outsmart the Empire. Her focus tight and narrow on her goals of righting the injustice in the galaxy. Granted, she put up with him even though Kanan didn’t share her love of political resistance. That had to count for something.

But her priorities showed in all the maddening ways she tried to compartmentalize their relationship. How she kept Kanan at arm's length when it suited her. He found it nearly impossible to live with. Except if the alternative was not to be with her, well then he would gladly jump through all her hoops. He could live with her idiosyncrasies around when and where they were intimate if that meant they were together. 

Kanan let out a long slow breath, trying to release the tension from his swirling thoughts, as he glanced down at his gloves. His hair tie was looped over his fingers. He must have been running his hands through his hair again. He drew the strands back, resecuring it, and stood, moving to the street to find fresh air.

Knowing that he loved her, didn’t change a lot of things between them, did it? It certainly didn’t mean a relationship with someone like him would ever be safe for her.

It had been a long time since he felt the Empire breathing heavy down his neck, back when Grey and Styles had been hunting him. In the years since, he had gotten skilled at fitting in and avoiding trouble, but the Empire had time to refine their techniques for finding Jedi. He knew one slip, one inadvertent reveal of his Force abilities, could bring the full might of the Empire down on him. And annihilation to anyone unlucky enough to be nearby when it happened.

But Hera wasn’t running from the Empire. She was even crazier. She was running towards them. And something about that gesture stirred the protector in him. He wanted to guard that. Not for her own good, but because of her goodness. She had a passion that was fragile and precious in the galaxy. That should be cherished. If he could watch out for her, if he could help keep her safe, Kanan would, even though it put him at increased risk. Maybe that was the Jedi in him talking, but not the whole of it.

A slight breeze cleared the air away from the market. Kanan found his restless thoughts had made their way to his feet. He walked the busy street with no destination in mind. Bus speeders plodded their way through the thick traffic, filled with bored inhabitants staring out the windows. Pedestrians bickered, greeted one another, and clipped shoulders on the duracrete walkways, in their hurry to get elsewhere. All ages and species intermingling. A cacophony of languages filtered through his consciousness, some recognizable but just as many foreign.

A woman caught Kanan’s eye. A human. Her long black hair was pulled back and barely concealed under the hood of her cloak. She was waiting on a corner with a boy who stood as tall as her shoulder, gesturing as she spoke to him. Perhaps it was the way she was standing - relaxed and poised, not hurried like the other pedestrians. Or maybe it was the way she inclined her head towards her companion, attentive and kind, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of her lips at his reply.

In either case, Kanan wasn’t prepared for the sudden clenching in his chest, an unbidden reminder of her.

Enough time had passed that he could choose to simply turn away and not be reduced to a quivering mass of anguish. But he still noticed.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a moment of remembering, neither shying away from the distress nor indulging in its sorrow.

Despite the pain, he hoped that he would never get to the point where he stopped seeing his master in strangers on the street.

Watching the pair gave him a flash of insight into how much he had changed. It had been nearly nine years since she had been killed. He was a man now, grown, but he had gone through some harrowing experiences. He might be physically healthy, but there were scars on his psyche that hadn’t been there when he had been her padawan. Due in part to her efforts, he had survived. Getting on with the act of living had to count for something.

He wasn’t that person anymore - the scared, starving child with more combat skills than common sense. Maybe, just maybe he was past the worst of it. The fear, the running. His feet were under him again. He used to think the pain would never lessen but he realized it had dulled to an ache at some point. It wouldn’t ever completely go away, but it wasn’t dominating his every waking moment. 

Perhaps he had escaped his past. Escaped being a Jedi.

The woman placed her hand on the boy's shoulder to speak to him as they crossed the street, walking away from Kanan. He wondered what Depa would have thought of Hera. She would love her, of course. Depa had that deep, compassionate streak that most Jedi had. But her's always seemed closer to the surface, evident in her patience. His master would delight in Hera’s idealism and passion, just as Kanan did.

But what of his relationship with Hera? A frown crossed his face. He knew the answer but had avoided thinking about it. Depa would advise him against attachment and warn him of its dangers. She would point out the ways that Kanan’s desire for Hera clouded his ability to connect with the Force. 

But Kanan no longer wanted to connect with the Force. Just Hera. 

Attachment wasn’t the Jedi way. But he wasn’t a Jedi anymore.

And with that realization, the last bit of resistance to his quandary fell away.

To hell with the Order. They had failed him and were fading into history. He no longer owed them his allegiance. His Force abilities would never go away. But he could deal with them surfacing from time to time by working harder.

Hera. He was going to make this work. To stay with her until he couldn’t.

Having made up his mind, Kanan couldn’t keep the grin off his face even if he had wanted to.

***

When his comlink beeped, Kanan ducked into an alley away from prying ears.

“What’s up?” he asked. There was a lightness in his tone that matched his mood. He wondered if Hera could hear it.

Her reply was layered over a murmur of a crowd and the rhythmic bass notes of music.

“Things are going well here. Really well in fact.” There was something expectant in Hera’s voice, even as she hesitated. “Listen, I know you said you don’t want to get involved, but I think this might be your thing. We’re planning something and…" She paused again before hurrying forward in a rush. "I could use your input at the very least. Preferably your actual help in the activity.”

Kanan’s lips twitched. Like he could say no. He didn’t care; if it was important to her, he wanted to help. He nodded, before catching himself. “Of course.”

“I appreciate it.” He heard the relief in her voice. “I can pay you extra.”

“It’s not the money, you know.” His voice was quiet, almost tender. She was trying to be considerate of his desire for not getting involved.

She paused as if letting his words sink in. They were beyond a captain and crew relationship now, although they hadn't spoken it aloud. He heard her understanding in that moment. “I know. Thank you.” Her reply was barely audible over the comlink.

He smiled. “Sure. You’re at the Canyon Cantina, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll be with a Devaronian.”

“Right. Your crime lord," he teased. "Be there shortly. Over.”

The bar was easy to find. It was only a couple of blocks from his location. Bright lights stood out against the rapidly darkening skies and signaled the entrance where the sound of music and loud voices spilled onto the street. The grungy building it occupied appeared to have been painted black at one point. Now it was muted to a dull brown by the ever present, reddish sand that clung to everything in town. Even the roads and walkways were covered. The dust quieted Kanan’s footsteps as he approached, only to rise and swirl in the breeze behind him.

Kanan ducked into the cantina and was immediately assaulted by throbbing beats. He paused at the entrance to give his eyes a chance to adjust to the whirling lights. More nightclub than local watering hole, it was a spot for dancing and mingling rather than unwinding after a long day. He scanned the room looking for Hera, but it was too crowded to see much. He would have to make his way across the dance floor to find her.

He beat a path through a throng of dancers, only to be stopped by the press of hips moving against his backside. A pair of hands tugged at his waist, inviting him to dance as he attempted to shrug them off. When the stranger persisted, Kanan gave in and allowed himself to be spun around.

The dancer was nearly as tall as Kanan and backlit. He could only make out a purple shimmering halo where their head should be. As the light shifted, a woman was revealed. A Mikkian, with dark lavender skin and undulating head-tendrils. A smile touched her lips, but her eyes were obscured by a metallic slash of ocular prosthetics. She wore a sleeveless tunic and snug knee length pants, her bare arms covered with rope like jewelry. Draping her arms over his shoulders, one of her hands slid behind his neck pulling him closer. Her hips continued to sway in time to the beat.

Kanan put his hands up in front of him while giving a polite smile and a shake of his head. He wasn’t interested. Not tonight of all nights. Not when his mind was a happy buzz just thinking about Hera. The woman lessened her grip and reluctantly pulled away, leaving him alone in the crush of the dancers.

It was packed even past the dance floor. No one else tried to impede Kanan's progress but he jostled more than his fair share of patrons from the press of the crowd. He made his way around, first past the central bar, then the perimeter where the booths were. Kanan poked his head into more than one private exchange occurring in the alcoves behind the beaded curtains but saw no sign of Hera or a Devaronian. 

He bit his lip thinking, unsure of how he had missed them. Kanan realized he could recognize Hera by her Force signature now but shook his head, immediately discounting it. He didn't need to find her that badly. Even considering opening up to the Force felt like a slippery slope towards trouble.

A slight stir in the air caught his attention, cooler and fresher than the collective exhalations created by the mass at the bar. It was coming from a darkened hallway that Kanan had first mistook for access to the refreshers. Following it, he spotted customers waiting for those rooms. The passageway continued further into an outdoor space, partly sheltered by an awning and enclosed by high walls. He could just make out the first star of the evening peeking through an opening in one corner. The other side was open to the sunset where he could see a riot of orange and pink light. It was less hot than inside, less crowded, and marginally quieter.

From the doorway, he could see nearly all corners of the room but still didn't spy a pair of green lekku or an orange flight suit. He did see a tall cloaked man in the corner slouched against the wall. A pair of horns peeked out beneath his hood. His face was obscured by the shadow of the cloak from this angle. Kanan caught a glimpse of reddish brown fingers splayed against the wall supporting himself. A Devaronian. Hera’s contact.

Kanan pushed through a cluster of Sullustans. A gap in the crowd revealed that the man was speaking with someone. Even before he could make out her features, he could tell it was Hera. He recognized her by the way she held herself. She leaned against the wall, facing the room, one foot braced behind her and her arms crossed over her chest. Her head was cocked, listening intently to her contact while watching the crowd. She gave an easy laugh at something he said before rising to speak into his ear.

Something about the scene in front of Kanan made him freeze. It wasn’t so much the man himself. His face was still obscured. Nor was it the clothing he wore - an armored chest piece over a flowing tunic, cinched with a wide belt, and full pants tucked into calf-high boots. No, it was the man’s body language that set Kanan on edge. Hera’s contact leaned intimately over her, supported by an arm against the wall above her head. The man ducked down to listen, before tilting his head to speak into her ear cones. His hand briefly touched her arm as they communicated. 

Kanan’s eyes narrowed as something flared up in him. Taking shallow breaths through gritted teeth, he wasn’t prepared for the powerful upwelling of emotions. It was sudden and bright, sweeping away his rational mind. His new found realization of his love for Hera flared into a fiery feeling of possessiveness.

He swayed for a second as the room spun from his emotional maelstrom. As it dawned on Kanan that he was jealous, he mentally shook himself in an attempt to regain control of his emotions. He was overreacting. This was Hera’s contact. They were standing so close because it was loud in here. And they needed to be cautious that they weren’t overheard. It didn’t mean anything.

Taking a ragged breath, he let it out in a slow hiss. Kanan hadn't realized his hands were clenched until he opened them. He tried without much success to drop the tension from his shoulders before walking stiffly towards the pair.

Kanan's eyes didn't leave Hera as he approached with a forced smile. "Hey," He said, searching her face for a reaction.

"You found us," Hera said brightening. Nothing seemed amiss in her demeanor, and he relaxed infinitesimally. Of course, she was fine. He was letting jealousy get the best of him.

Kanan turned to size up Hera’s contact. She spoke loudly to be heard over the crowd. “This is Jondo. We were discussing-”

The man turned towards Kanan revealing the Devaronian’s features for the first time. He stopped registering Hera's voice.

For the second time in as many moments, Kanan froze.

He knew that face.

Kleeve.

A figure from the dark reaches of Kanan’s past. One of the last still alive with any connection those first few frightening months after the Order fell. 

As a general, Kleeve led the Separatist Forces that Kanan and his master faced on Kaller, the last battle before the Purge. Kanan encountered him again when he was on the run from his Clone Trooper pursuers; going by Jondo at that point, he had aided in Kanan’s rescue when Kanan’s luck had finally run out. Not long after that, Kanan had left him, trying to leave all vestiges of his past behind.

Apparently, some things couldn’t be outrun.

Jondo’s cybernetic eye clicked as it came to focus on Kanan. The Devaronian still had some height on him, but it had narrowed considerably in the years since they had last seen each other. Kanan tilted his head up just the slightest to meet his gaze.

And stared, open mouthed.

Jondo’s forehead furrowed, recognizing but unable to place Kanan, as if he couldn't reconcile the man standing in front of him with the similarly faced boy. When the pieces finally clicked into place, Jondo’s face broke into a wide grin.

"Last time I saw you, you had just been jettisoned out an airlock!" He laughed, clasping a hand on Kanan’s shoulder.

Kanan winced.

It was mostly true. The last thing Jondo had seen him do was kick the poodoo out of Janus, Kanan’s partner and friend, before claiming Jondo’s ship. Kanan had been something of a sleemo while severing the last ties to his past. But Jondo hadn’t brought that up. Instead, he mentioned the rescue attempt that happened earlier when Kanan had ejected himself out an airlock in space to escape the troopers pursuing him. Jondo and Janus had saved him from the vacuum of space and Kanan repaid that kindness with a knee to the gut.

Kanan felt heat rise to his cheeks - at the memory of his actions after the two’s efforts to save him.

Hera leaned forward, eager to hear more. "An airlock?!"

"Ancient history,” Kanan said shaking his head.

"Ancient, huh?" She said. "So you two know each other?"

"We've crossed paths before, yes." Kanan shifted from foot to foot, wishing he wasn’t having this conversation.

“More than once. It seems we can’t escape each other’s company, huh, Cale-”

“-Kanan. It’s Kanan Jarrus.” Kanan cut Jondo off but not before he felt a chill go down his spine. He hadn’t heard that name spoken aloud in years and he intended to keep it that way. Hera didn’t know his given name and it was for her safety that she should never learn it.

“Right. Of course, Kanan Jarrus.” Jondo inclined his head as he said the name, trying it on.

“And I’m here for business. Not to reminisce.”

Jondo gave him a long look, dropping any pretense of friendliness. Kanan wasn’t sure which was more piercing - his cybernetic or organic eye. Hera glanced back and forth between them, her expression curious. The man finally nodded. “Fair enough.”

“There.” Hera pointed to a booth that was opening up. “We’ll have more privacy.”

Kanan waited until Hera sat down before sliding in next to her. Part of him wanted to position himself as close to her as he could get away with. The other part wanted to leave the room. Leave the cantina.

His skin was prickling with nerves. He still felt the breathless headiness of realizing he was in love with Hera. But it was dulled by an unexpected spike of jealousy and the stomach turning embodiment of a living memory in front of him.

Kanan’s thinking was slow, his thoughts tripping over themselves as he took in the situation. The reappearance of someone from his past. Someone who had knowledge of him being a Force user. Hera, knew of course, and he trusted her, but it had been years since he had spoken to anyone who would look at him as a Jedi. He found it hard to meet Jondo’s eyes, unsure of what the man saw when he looked at Kanan.

But Jondo and Hera were taking surreptitious looks at the crowd, not at Kanan. They were assessing whether it was alright to talk candidly. Satisfied, they turned to each other and nodded.

“So what’s the plan?” Kanan bit out. He was eager to prevent the conversation from turning to discussions of the past.

Hera directed her comments at Kanan, presumably having covered preliminaries already with Jondo. “There is an old outpost in the canyonlands, which Jondo has done reconnaissance on. If we can get it operational, it will allow us to monitor all Imperial communications in this sector.”

“Heavily guarded?” Kanan asked. He was somewhat surprised that he had managed a semi-intelligent question.

“Actually, no. Abandoned. We shouldn’t encounter an armed presence, but it’s remote. Deep in the canyons and it might take some effort to get it working again, ” Jondo said.

Kanan nodded as if he understood, but in reality, he was struggling to focus. As Hera and Jondo outlined their thoughts, he continued to grapple with suitable responses - humming at odd intervals or parroting a sentence back. They came up with a plan, but Kanan couldn’t give details beyond the next few steps. Most of his effort went into trying not to look as miserable as he felt.

His swirling thoughts made the evening go by in a blur. The knowledge that no matter how far he ran. How long he ran. No matter how many ways he disowned his past. He couldn’t escape it. Even growing into manhood. Falling in love. None of that mattered. Because none of it changed who he was.

He was never more aware of the curse of his Force abilities than he was at that moment. All he felt was a bone-deep panic at realizing he could never escape it.


	4. Travel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated General.

Hera shrugged her poncho out of the way as she slid the two supply bags off her shoulders, scanning the street for Kanan. The bags held supplies for their trip to the outpost. One contained mostly ration bars, but she had squeezed in a change of clothes and a few other sundries. The other held the slicing equipment. Two mid-sized power cells were secured to the outside of it. They were the reason she was already rubbing her shoulders.

Kanan was on water duty. The listening station would have water generating equipment, but she and Jondo weren't certain how long it would take to get it operational again. And they were in a desert. So they wanted to err on the side of too much, rather than come up short.

Jondo estimated it would take a good part of the day to reach the station. Located deep in a slot canyon and inaccessible by starship, they would travel by speeder bike to the edge of the canyonlands, then hike the rest of the way.

Hera spotted Kanan weighed down by the filled bladders of water draped over his shoulders.

“You have any problems?” Hera asked as he approached. Desert planets had various policies on water consumption. She hadn’t been sure what Echea’s was when Kanan headed off to the public facilities.

“No.” He began gathering her bags, holding one out towards her without meeting her gaze.

Hera took the bag, frowning. Kanan had been close-mouthed ever since they finalized the plans with Jondo. It was apparent he was rattled by the events at the cantina. She had wanted to talk to see if she could help with whatever was bothering him, but they had been so busy with their preparations that it hadn’t happened. The busyness was due in part to their haste as it was the season for storms. The forecast was clear for another few days, so they had opted to head out immediately to take advantage of the favorable weather pattern.

Kanan turned to go, but Hera grabbed his arm, holding him back. “You know I appreciate your help, right?”

Kanan didn’t meet her eyes but nodded. “I know. I’m sorry if I’m not the most pleasant… crew member right now.”

Hera wasn’t sure how to take his comment. Was he struggling to name their relationship? Or was it a barbed commentary on her parameters around it?

“I get it that you don’t want to talk, but it might help me if I understood what was between you and Jondo.” She paused hoping he would continue, but he kept silent, looking down the street. “Even a hint. Like, were you friends? Enemies?”

“Yes.”

She pursed her lips at his cryptic response.

Hera hadn’t realized she was still holding his arm until he looked pointedly at it. She dropped it, and he turned to go, heading to their rendezvous point. She moved to follow him when he stopped abruptly. The water sloshedHera shook her lekku. “You shouldn’t complain, its remoteness is why it’s still intact.” 

“Why is he helping us?” Kanan demanded.

Hera blinked as she shifted gears. “Well, the same as most people. The Empire is pinching his operations.”

Kanan huffed. “Yeah, the more the Empire cracks down, the bigger the smuggling profits are.”

“Yes, and the more dangerous. He’s lost two of his underlings recently-”

“-and his profit on the cargo they were carrying-”

“But his interests align with our own so why are you complaining? He wants the same data we want. If he has that information, he can more safely move contraband.”

A thought occurred to Hera. “Can we trust him?" When Kanan didn't reply immediately, she pressed him. "If you know something that I don't know you should tell me. “

Kanan's gaze was unfocused as he considered her words. “No, he’s... trustworthy. More than I wish sometimes.”

Hera exhaled slowly. Some part of her had picked up on Kanan’s unease, and she was glad to have her worries unfounded. Whatever was up with Kanan it didn't seem to be about this operation.

“I also have old codes that should help us get the outpost up and running again,” she said.

“You do?” The surprise was evident in his voice.

She frowned at his reaction. Was he underestimating her? Or did he not understand how serious she was about this op? But her voice was soft as she continued. “Jondo needs us. He has speeder bikes, equipment, and topo scans of the canyons. And it’s not a walk in the park, between the desert, the rugged terrain, and possible storms. We need him too.” She stopped uncertain of whether to continue, then, thinking better of it, finished in a rush. “So if there is something you want to tell me about him now would be a good time.”

Kanan glanced at her. Something in their conversation had caused his face to soften the hard lines it had been set in earlier. “I owe him one,” he muttered.

Glad that he was opening up to her, Hera gave him a small smile. “A big one or a little one?”

He hesitated for a beat before continuing. “The biggest one.”

She furrowed her brow, trying to puzzle out what he meant. Then she remembered Jondo’s comment about being blown out an airlock. “Oh.”

Kanan nodded, looking sheepish.

She repeated herself as it sank in. “Ohhh.”

Hera felt something clench in her chest. She considered an alternate reality, one where Jondo hadn't saved a young Kanan. She hadn't known anything about this close shave earlier today. Now that she did Kanan seemed even more precious to her.

He gave her a small smile, putting on his best face. But his lips were pressed together, and his eyes were too tight. She wondered not for the last time about a boy Kanan. Had he been a Jedi? What had he been through?

She couldn’t help herself. Her hand raised to touch his cheek. Kanan closed his eyes for the briefest of moments before pulling away. Hoisting the water bags higher on his shoulder, he started down the street away from Hera.

***

Hera double checked her footing for the hundredth time. Her fingers trailed along both sides of the smooth canyon walls as she navigated the path. Falling on her ass on a patch of scree would not be good for the slicing kit on her back. The light was still good despite the sun setting several hours ago. The creamy pink of the gas giant Othoa loomed high above, taking up a good chunk of the sky. Despite it being after sunset the planetlight illuminated everything except the deepest shadows. At least sufficiently for a Twi’lek's night vision. Kanan might be struggling, though. Hera could easily make out where she needed to be cautious while stepping and where the ground was solid.

“Another ten klicks til the outpost," Jondo said. "A few hours if we don’t hit any more rockslides.” He had taken the lead through the canyons, checking his topo holos periodically as they maneuvered through the labyrinthine terrain.

Hera glanced over her shoulder to see if Kanan had heard Jondo’s report.

He had. “Aww, but the rockslides are the most fun.”

He was bringing up the rear and also had the most gear. Jondo needed his arms free to use the holoprojector and the mobility to scout over and around the rockslides. Hera was carrying the delicate equipment and power cells. That left Kanan to haul the remaining supplies, which included all the water. Scrambling over the boulders with that much stuff had to be difficult.

Hera was glad that he was complaining, though. She knew where she stood when he was sarcastic, but not when he was moody. Kanan was having a hard time with something this evening, but he was dealing with it in his way. She hoped for his sake, though, that Jondo was right - that the worst of the rockslides were past them.

Once Kanan had gotten the water in town, they found Jondo not far from the bazaar. The Devaronian had two speeder bikes and the rest of the gear they would need. More importantly, he had first-hand experience, having scoped out the outpost several times. Without codes or a droid, he had been unable to gain access.

But Fulcrum had the intel Hera needed. Assuming, of course, that they were the correct codes. Also, there was no guarantee they would be successful in powering the outpost up. And was Jondo’s assessment that it was untouched accurate? Could they assume the station was not being watched by the Empire?

But second guessing and hesitating would never get Hera closer to her goal. This was just one more gamble in a long string that defined her life for as long as she could remember. So with the help of Jondo and Kanan, they had created a plan to maximize their chances.

And once the plan was in place, they had moved with an efficiency and purpose, distributing the water and the gear before loading up the speeder bikes. Jondo had taken one. Hera the other. Kanan hadn't even bothered to discuss who would drive, although they had never ridden together. He threw a leg behind her and grabbed her waist as she sped off on the long flat trip towards the canyonlands.

They had headed east, leaving the dusty city behind. The land was wind-scoured rock, all cracked edges and broken lines from some recent geological event that shaded from red to purple under the light of Othoa. Giant boulders littered the landscape.Slight imperfections in topography would provide a foothold for the shifting sands to accumulate into dunes with stunning results. Having originated from a variety of minerals half a moon away, the sand created rose and lavender striped drifts.

The ride was just what Hera had needed after the bustle of events earlier. Between the meeting with Jondo and the scramble to get supplies ready, Hera hadn't had a chance to think. Her recent conversations with Kanan on the Phantom had been eating at her. Of everything that occurred between them today, that was the most troubling.

Getting involved with Kanan wasn’t supposed to get in the way of her purpose. They both understood that. But it was. And that frustrated her.

She felt sorry for whatever Kanan had been through. He had revealed more to her today than he had over the course of months. Her heart ached over the pain he alluded to - whether it was leaving his lovers or his trepidation around working with Jondo. But her empathy vied with the frustration of having to navigate his emotions in addition to planning this op. Hera noticed how she resented the competition in her headspace. And how she felt guilty for feeling that way.

But for all the trouble Kanan was causing in Hera’s mind, his physical presence had been welcome. Once satisfied with the predictability of the terrain, they had picked up speed, going too fast for talk. The soothing monotony of the ride was reassuring. The whine of the speeder bike engine, the wind in her face, an arm around her waist, and a familiar chest at her back. If she hadn't been in a relationship with Kanan, the ride might have been maddening. Now, it was comforting.

She had dropped her flight goggles over her eyes. Kanan, seeking cover from the wind, had dipped his head behind hers. Her lekku whipped over both their shoulders. More than once she found herself distracted by the way his beard or nose would brush against her neck. The setting sun was at their back and the first stars of the night were just starting to twinkle in front of them. It might have been the most pleasant albeit dusty speeder bike ride that she could remember.

There were no roads leading towards or into the canyonlands. Only the occasional intrepid explorer ventured forth into the natural wonder. So upon leaving town, they had picked a heading and traveled straight. Several hours later the flat landscape gave rise to undulating stone and shallow gullies, which required more careful navigation. Jondo had scouted the route, but conditions could change. If something happened while the three of them were in such a remote spot, they would be on their own.

The area was made up of a labyrinth of interconnected slot canyons, knuckle scraping in narrowness and deep enough to induce claustrophobia. Whatever forces had shaped the canyons sculpted the stone into sinuous lines, curving and arching into seemingly impossible shapes. They were colored in a riot of red and purple stripes. Beautiful in both color and form.

It was too confined for bikes or ships and too rugged for most droids. When they first built the outpost, there had been an access road carved through the canyons, but a string of rockslides had rendered it ineffective. Hera guessed this factored into why it had been abandoned.

When the trio encountered the first rockslide, they found an alcove formed from the jumbled boulders. They had secured their bikes there. The storm was due to arrive while they were at the outpost. They wanted the speeders to be there when they returned, not blown back to town.

The bikes' grav propulsion could have gotten them over the purple colored rockslide if they had gone slowly. But the path on the far side had dipped into a gorge so narrow that Jondo had to turn sideways to get through. Far too tight for the bikes.

Hera had lost track of how long they had been hiking when Jondo called back to her, “Let’s break here.” He was already sliding his gear off and swinging his arms to stretch his cramped muscles.

The canyon they had been hiking in opened up into a large oblong room. The night sky was a gash far above them, peppered with stars, dominated by Othoa and her string of moons. Their orbits were aligned perfectly with the orientation of the ravine.

Hera dropped her gear onto a large boulder, before turning to help Kanan as he brought up the rear.

“Who thought building an outpost deep in this maze was a good idea?” Kanan groaned with relief as Hera dragged the top bag off his shoulder.

“It’s how it works. The listening station takes advantage of the local geology to amplify certain frequencies. It just so happens it's the same ones that the Empire uses. The canyons help to channel it. If the station weren't here, it wouldn’t work,” Jondo explained.

Kanan lifted one eyebrow at Jondo. “I stand by my comments. Who thought being so remote was a good idea?”

Hera shook her lekku. “You shouldn’t complain, its remoteness why it’s still intact.”

“Hopefully. We don’t know for sure.” Jondo interjected.

“It seems like a perfect reason to complain. If the Empire hadn’t abandoned it, we wouldn’t be in this situation," Kanan said. He gave Hera a wry grin as he pulled the rest of the water off his shoulders. "Although you would find something equally as crazy for us to get into, so maybe I would just be trading my problems.”

“You know me too well.” Hera acknowledged. Her smile was hidden as she took a swig of water. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jondo watching them.

“You two been doing this sort of thing for awhile?” Jondo asked as he pulled some ration bars out to share.

Hera wondered if he was asking how long they had been challenging the Empire or how long they had been working together. And if “working together” carried any other meaning. She supposed she should get used to it. People assuming they were a couple. And now that they were a couple, she supposed she should stop being rankled by it.

“A while,” Kanan answered non-committally. “Well, Hera has anyways. I’m just along for moral support. And to be your pack bantha.”

Ripping open the ration bar Jondo had offered her, she considered him. He didn’t strike her as the smuggler type. He was almost too… normal. Blackmarket and other underworld activities seemed to draw more than its fair share of damaged souls. Their issues manifested in various forms of paranoia, arrogance, and violence. But Jondo was none of these things. He seemed polite and confident. Contemplative and focused, but not in a conniving way.

Plus, Kanan seemed confident of his trustworthiness.

Hera wondered why Jondo hadn't included his associates in this op. Another hand certainly would have been welcome. Perhaps he didn’t trust them in this sort of operation? Or maybe he wanted to protect them from a greater threat. Evading detection while carrying contraband was one thing. Breaking into an Imperial compound to spy on your government was another level entirely.

Hera eyed the man thoughtfully before asking, “How about you? This your first insurgent act? Or are you more of ‘just looking for a quick credit’ type?”

“No,” Jondo said shaking his head. “It's not just about the credits.”

Kanan snorted.

Jondo ignored him and continued, “This is not my first act of resistance.”

“No kidding,” Kanan added, his voice thick with sarcasm. Jondo gave him a measured look.

“What?” Kanan asked defensively, but Jondo didn't seem inclined to add anything more.

Hera watched the two, recognizing there was some significant history between them. It was familiar but not intimate, although she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. Kanan’s tone was bordering on animosity. Perhaps he was feeling indebted to Jondo. Or maybe it was guilt. Jondo, for his part, was ignoring the edge in Kanan's voice. Hera shook her head, hoping time would explain more before the tension came to a head.

Excusing herself, she took a side canyon, looking for some privacy to relieve herself. Upon returning, she turned a corner and stopped in her tracks.

The canyons didn’t carry the wind the same way as the flatlands. The air was clear and still here. So it was surprising to see small puffs of dust high above, disturbed by some unseen force. The light from Othoa was catching in it making rays of the dust motes. Particles spiraled to the canyon floor, trapped in the pink planetbeams. Hera moved from the darkened shadows to the middle of the canyon. She held her hand out in the light, enthralled by the unexpected beauty.

A raised voice broke her concentration. Kanan’s.

The sound traveled far in the canyon bouncing off all the hard surfaces, funneling towards her. She spun to listen, detecting something acrimonious in his tone. Unable to make out words, she broke into a jog. When she entered the wide section of the canyon, she stopped short.

Kanan and Jondo stood face to face. Kanan’s back was rigid and his fists clenched. As he spoke, he leaned forward centimeters from Jondo's nose.

Hera only caught part of Kanan's words. “... is enough. You have a job. I have a job. Nevermind Hera.”

Jondo's face was impassive, but his voice had a cold edge. “So tell me, Caleb. Are you still making a habit of running out on people? ”

Kanan’s expression immediately darkened.

Hera rushed forward, afraid it was about to come to blows. Grabbing Kanan’s elbow, she yanked him around to face her. He allowed Hera to manhandle him but his eyes never left Jondo.

“Something you two want to tell me?” Her tone matched the scowl on her face.

Narrowing his eyes, Jondo gave one last glance at Kanan before reaching for his pack. Shouldering it, he paused as if weighing whether to speak further. He finally met Hera's gaze and jerked his head towards the man. "Ask Kanan," he said although his voice had lost the animosity it had earlier. He turned and walked away, heading towards the trail.

As Jondo retreated, Kanan’s posture softened by a degree, but his jaw was still clenched.

Hera's grip tightened on Kanan's elbow to get his attention. "Well?"

Kanan’s gaze dropped to the ground. “No. We’re fine here.”

“Could have fooled me,” Hera said, her chin jutting forward.

When he remained silent for a long moment, she shook her head in frustration, dropped his arm, and began gathering her stuff. Hera helped Kanan with the last of his bags, then blocked his path before he could head out. Knowing how far a voice could carry, Hera hissed, “what was that about?!”

He gave her a weak smile and shrugged. Hera stared at him for a long moment before stalking off with a scowl.

Fuming, she hurried to follow Jondo. He had disappeared around the bend of the canyon. Turning the corner, she could just make out his form in the shadows of an outcropping, waiting for her.

She nodded in acknowledgment then paused for Kanan to catch up. A glance over her shoulder revealed that he was still standing where she had left him.

“You coming?” She couldn’t keep the irritation out of her voice.

He was standing in the middle of the canyon illuminated by a pool of planetlight.

But something about Kanan’s posture was off. His head was tilted, and his face was blank and unseeing as if he was listening to something outside her range of hearing.

Hera took a hesitant step towards him squinting in confusion. She scanned the walls of the gorge. What had grabbed his attention? She saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Hera opened her mouth to call out again but was stopped by a series of events that happened so quickly as to be simultaneous.

One moment Kanan was still as if frozen, and the next he was raising his hand and lunging towards Hera. He had only taken one step, but it was as if he had touched her, despite the distance between them. No. As if he had shoved her.

She flew backward. Hands, feet, and lekku trailing behind her as her body became airborne falling sideways. Kanan disappeared from her view as she squeezed her eyes shut.

The sound came at the same time, although it took longer for the sudden staggering eruption to filter into her consciousness. She felt more than heard the noise, deep in her chest. A sickening crack followed by a rumble. The sounds of sharper clashes of rocks splintering under the force of their own weight.

The sounds mingled with the physical sensation and pain of colliding with Jondo. The pair fell in a tangled heap of body and equipment as bits of rock and detritus rained down on them.

Hera lay dazed on the canyon floor, at a loss to understand what had just happened. She absently noticed that she was unable to draw a breath beneath the crush of weight. For some reason, this wasn’t alarming.

Jondo recovered first, staggering to his feet. As his weight moved off of her, Hera reflexively gave a great gasp and filled her lungs with the dust that was billowing everywhere. Struggling to her knees, Hera doubled up again as her body was racked by coughs. Between gasps, Hera heard Jondo choke out, “Rockslide.”

Forcing herself to breath through her nose, her hacking lessened enough to hear the silence. The thunderous din had subsided as quickly as it had started. Only the occasional ping of pebbles bouncing off boulders in search of a final resting spot broke the sudden quiet.

She and Jondo were clear of the slide. But the spot where she had been standing moments before, where she had been watching Kanan, was a jumbled pile of violet and magenta rocks. The canyon ceased to be defined by the craggy striped walls on either side. Instead, it had slumped into an insurmountable barrier.

“Kanan.” She whispered his name, unable to take a big enough lungful of air to scream. Hera moved slowly as if she was underwater. Between coughs, she repeated his name in a whisper, unable to recognize the fear that was driving her.

She jumped as her comlink went off.

“Hera?!” Kanan’s muffled voice emerged from her pocket.

She gasped in relief and pulled the comlink out. “Are you ok?” she demanded.

“I'm fine. You and Jondo?”

Hera’s body sagged in relief, nearly dropping her to her knees. She rested her hand against the canyon wall, supporting herself, as she gave herself a moment to recover. Hera brought the comlink to her mouth. “Yeah, took a tumble but we’re ok.”

She studied the wall of boulders barricading the path. “Kanan...I don’t know how we’ll be able to get to you. The rockslide looks too unstable to climb.”

“Yeah, this side too,” Kanan said, his voice grim. “Maybe if we scaled the canyon walls?”

“You would have to do that. We don’t have the gear for it. You’re carrying it.”

“Wait,” Jondo interrupted. He was studying his topo maps. The projection shook as he had a small coughing fit. When he recovered, he continued, “I think there might be an alternate route, where we can meet up.”

“You hear that, Kanan?” Hera asked.

“Yeah, go on...”

“Gimme a minute to find the best route.” Jondo’s face pinched in concentration as he studied the hologram. The device was doing a poor job of making a complete projection in the air thick with particles. He muttered, looking for a path through the tangle of canyons.

As a solution was presenting itself, Hera became aware of the adrenaline coursing through her body. She willed her heart to slow down, assuring herself that the immediate threat was gone. Part of her knew better than to dwell on what Kanan had just done for her, to her. Even as another part was in denial at what had occurred. Her eyes slid shut as she remembered him raising his hand. He had known. How?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a cry. A wordless startled exclamation from the comlink.

She froze as a series of noises played out for them. Sounds that she couldn’t place - a zap, a thud, a scrape. Followed by the sudden and absolute silence of a comlink ceasing to function.

Hera stared at the device in her palm. Her eyes were wide as she turned to Jondo, trying to make sense of what she had just heard. He was shaking his head, his brows furrowed in concern or confusion. Hera spun towards the wall of rubble as if she could see through it to where Kanan was.

She opened her mouth, filling her lungs for a scream. But before the first gasp of his name escaped, a hand clasped over her mouth silencing her.


	5. Bounty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section rated T for mild (mild? well, not terribly graphic) violence.

Kanan blinked several times then grimaced at the sensation of grit between his teeth. The sharp edges of newly fractured rock cut into his cheek. Thoughts slid through his mind, trying to find something to snag on while his eyes struggled to focus in the gloom. The last thing he recalled was speaking with Hera via comlink. Had he been struck by a stray rock from the rockslide? 

He moved to push himself to sitting, but his hands didn’t seem to be working. Too dazed to panic, a groan cut through the stillness. Hera? Was she hurt?

No, she was on the far side of the giant pile of rubble. Yes. Where he had pushed her using the Force. 

He realized the moaning noise was emerging from deep in his throat. Kanan fell silent.

Lifting his head, he struggled to get his bearings. The remains of his comlink caught his eye and gave him an object to focus on. It lay in little pieces a meter in front of him. 

Raising his head made Kanan aware of a wetness running down his back. Glancing down, he saw a dark puddle pooling under his chest. This knowledge finally broke through the haze. He felt a jolt of adrenaline at the sight of so much blood and frantically sat up to check for injuries. Or rather he tried. His body was still refusing to cooperate.

Two things occurred to him at the same time. 

One was that he felt no pain. A dull headache but no sharp irritation of broken skin or bone. In fact, the liquid had neither the viscosity nor the warmth of blood. It was far too cool. In the glint of the planetlight, water had taken on the darkness of blood. One of the bladders must have ruptured. Kanan could see the gear he had frantically tossed aside after the rockslide in a jumbled pile. But he had left a bag on his back, and it was now soaking his shirt.

The other thing, as he struggled upright, was why his arms weren’t working. Kanan could feel the cold of durasteel encircling his wrists. Binders restrained his hands behind his back. 

As his mind sorted out what was happening, it took him a moment to register the humanoid that loomed in front of him. He froze when a woman dropped to a knee in front of him. The muzzle of her blaster pointed at his chest, as she draped her arm casually over her knee. A pair of blue eyes, luminescent in the dim light, scrutinized him. A veil hid the rest of her features. 

Stunned. Kanan had been stunned. It came back to him now. He had been talking with Hera. The sound of footsteps had made him turn. Concentric blue rings radiating from the muzzle of a blaster was the last thing he saw. 

Kanan spat to get rid of the worst of the grit from his mouth then warily studied the woman. Her face was hard to make out in Othoa's light. It cast harsh shadows on her features, and the veil obscured her nose and mouth. Squinting Kanan realized that it was a scarf. The ends were tied behind her neck below waving head-tendrils. Something about the Mikkian was familiar.

As if his mind had snapped into focus instead of his vision, he finally placed her - the dancer from the bar. Her skin had appeared purple under the lights of the dance floor. Here, in the planetlight, her head-tendrils were pink, the tips darkening to a blood red. 

Her optics were gone, she had a long knee length vest pulled over her tunic, and what he had thought was arm jewelry was intricate tattoos wrapped around bare arms. A layer of red dust, courtesy of the rockslide, muted the whole ensemble. He suspected he looked just as monochromatic, by the way the grit clung to him.

Kanan spoke without thinking - old habits die hard. “Aren't you the persistent one?” His face broke into a wide grin. “You know, there are better ways to get my atten-”

Without warning, her hand flew towards his mouth in a sudden display of explosive power.

Kanan had sensed something in the Force before the rockslide occurred. A tickle of unease. Not that he had been searching for it. It had arisen unbidden in him. Some part of him was horrified by this reflex, surrendering to the quiet beauty of it, not once, but twice in a day. Something he had forsworn to do, time and time again.

Yet once he was in that moment - when he registered a slight hiccup in the Force- Kanan stopped thinking. He merely acted. There was no sense of what to do next, no sense of urgency or emotion. Pushing Hera had been the result of everything Kanan had experienced up to that point. He had no more control over that than he did in choosing for one breath to follow the next.

Sometimes Jedi masters would describe that sensation as the“will of the Force.” But to Kanan, it felt like the Force had no intention. Things simply happened one after another. As if there could be no other possibilities except for what had occurred.

And for all those times the Force surfaced without warning? Well, he had never asked for it, nor wanted it. No matter how useful it was. Just as perplexing it would remain silent at other moments. So he had no foreknowledge of the woman stunning him or her backhand. The Force could be persnickety that way. Like some bizarre house guest, it would turn up at odd hours and outstay its welcome, but occasionally it would bring over a bottle of booze, so you hated to turn it away. 

As the woman’s knuckles made contact with his mouth and split his lip open, Kanan crumpled onto his side, groaning.

“That's for not dancing with me,” she said. Her demeanor was calm, yet her tone held an edge of hurt, like a petulant child.

“I'd say my instincts must have been right about you,” Kanan said as he staggered upright to face her.

The woman scowled and moved to raise her hand again. 

“But first impressions aren't everything,” he replied quickly. 

She narrowed her eyes at him but lowered her hand.

With the immediate threat of more violence avoided, Kanan's eyes glanced past her searching for her collaborators. Seeing none, he weighed taking action. A headbutt or shoulder tackle, perhaps? He gave himself high odds of disabling her. At least momentarily. But he wouldn’t get far before she stunned him again. Unless he could knock her out or disarm her, which would be hard to do with his hands bound, she would regain the advantage.

So he kept talking. “I’m flattered that you would go to such lengths for a dance, but somehow I doubt you followed me all the way out here for that.”

She shrugged off her bag, never taking her eyes off of him. “Why do I always find the arrogant ones?”

“You’re drawn to a certain type?” he asked shrugging. Belying his casual tone, Kanan bit his lip, considering his situation. He wasn’t sure what the woman’s motivation was, and that troubled him.

How had she found them? He assumed the wilderness was, well, pretty empty. She must have followed them from town. 

But to what end? He, Hera, and Jondo didn’t exactly look like a lucrative score, so robbing them seemed unlikely.

Plus, it seemed an odd coincidence that she came across them as the rockslide happened. And convenient. Could she have captured all three of them if they had remained together?

Kanan’s eyes kept darting around looking for a clue when they came to rest on her bag gaping open at her feet. He could make out the rounded shapes of a pair of thermal detonators. Odd that she would be carrying grenades into the Canyonlands unless she expected trouble, or...

“You caused the rockslide. “ Kanan said.

She unclipped a second set of binders from her belt. “Yes. Needed to separate you three." She waved her blaster at him. "On your belly. Don’t be any trouble, dear, and you’ll get out of here alive.”

With this confirmation, Kanan replayed the events of rockslide again in his mind. Where Hera had been standing. What they had said to each other. The moment when he had used the Force to shove Hera aside. What had the woman seen?

“You want me alive but not my friends,” he said ignoring her command.

“Nothing personal. One is enough trouble. Although it sounds like they got lucky,” she said nodding towards the broken comlink.

Kanan felt his breathing ease a bit. The woman wasn’t acting as if she had seen something as bizarre as a Twi’lek flying sideways. Had he lucked out in using the Force?

“I’m not going to ask you again. On. Your. Belly.” She emphasized her words by tapping his shoulder with her blaster.

Kanan gave the pair of binders in her hands a calculating look, narrowing his eyes at the extra long chain connecting the cuffs. He reluctantly lowered himself to the ground. She had experience doing this, taking care not to leave an opening he could exploit. 

He looked over his shoulder as he spoke, “If you wanted me lying down, you could have just asked. We could dispense with threats and the whole restraining me bit.” 

“Fat chance.” She placed one booted foot on his calf to immobilize him. He grunted as his leg ground into the hard edges of the canyon, and she snapped a cuff around each ankle. There was enough slack in the chain to allow him to walk albeit with small steps. 

“So tying me up is part of the appeal. You like it kinky!” 

Standing, she nudged him roughly with her foot. “Up,” she commanded. 

Rolling to his side, Kanan struggled to stand. Being prone in front of a woman with blaster was far outside of his comfort zone. “Before we go much further, can we discuss my safe word?” 

“Shut up already, and move.” 

“That’s a little long. How about ‘NO’? That’s not too ambiguous for you is it?” He turned giving her a smirk, only to be met with her fist. He stumbled from her punch, before half catching, half colliding with the wall of the canyon.

“Yep, definitely kinky,” he muttered under his breath. He grimaced and spat out a mouthful of blood. He recalled Hera once saying, “Charm doesn’t work on everyone.” Perhaps this was the exception she was referring to. 

Kanan tongued the inside of his mouth, checking for an injury, as he watched the woman. She was tall; her eyes were nearly at the same level as his own. They paused on him for only a second before flicking elsewhere. She seemed to be perpetually half squinting as if she was working on a calculation. He had been suspecting for a while that she was a bounty hunter. Her gear and skills certainly suggested it, but it was her body language that made him conclude it was true.

She jerked her head towards the path that threaded through the canyons from town, her head-tendrils rippling at the sudden motion. “Let’s go.”

Kanan didn't move. “It’s a long walk in any direction from here. Are you sure, we shouldn’t take some supplies?” He looked pointedly at the water on the ground. “Or I suppose I could always die of dehydration. You would have to drag my dead body out of here yourself.” A hint of sarcasm laced his delivery. 

She narrowed her eyes considering him. “You’re worth more alive.” 

Kanan looked away, clenching his jaw. He thought having his suspicions confirmed would reassure him - that he knew where he stood. But the sinking feeling in his gut was far worse than his throbbing jaw. He was a wanted man, and he had been caught.

She pulled her blaster on Kanan again and motioned for him to spin around. When his back was to her, she kicked him roughly, enough to lose his balance. He fell to his knees, grateful for the knee protection he wore, and barely caught his balance before he face-planted. She grabbed his ponytail, yanking at his head to speak into his ear. 

“You may be worth more alive, but there’s always the possibility I've forgotten what setting the blaster is on. Don’t try anything. I really don’t want to haul your dead ass out of here.”

With a smooth motion, she unlocked his binders and handed him water bags. He removed the ruptured one and shouldered the full ones. Once on his feet, she secured his hands in front of him. It seemed she was counting on the weight of the packs plus the shackles to restrain him. She was right. Kanan felt at a distinct disadvantage.

“Go.” 

Kanan began a slow shuffling walk, as he learned how far he could walk before the chain cut his stride short causing him to stumble. As he retraced the steps, that three of them had so recently taken, Kanan tried to keep his focus sharp. Should he manage to escape, he needed to be able to find his way back to Hera. This meant he needed not to get lost. Having come this way once was helpful, but doubling back things looked different. He kept glancing over his shoulder. This helped him commit the terrain to memory, but it also allowed him to get a better gauge of the Mikkian.

They had been walking for a stretch when a thought occurred to him. He paused to turn back towards her. “Hey. I don’t know your name.”

She gave him an annoyed look. “Why would you want to know that?”

He shrugged. “Common courtesy?” 

She squinted her eyes, debating whether this warranted violence. “Lirri,” she finally replied.

“Lirri. I would say it’s nice to meet you, but given the circumstances…” He smiled as he waved his cuffed hands. Inwardly he was scowling at her stony silence. She neither made a move to ask him his name nor indicate that she might already know it, which would clue him in about what the bounty was for.

Lirri had a pack on her back, but it couldn’t have held much beyond water, a few rations, and the thermal detonators. She seemed woefully unprepared for capturing a bounty solo and deep in the wilderness, especially if said bounty was for a Jedi. Unless people already forgot what Jedi were capable of. Kanan could identify with that. And who was he to argue given that he was the one in shackles?

The only problem was that he didn’t think Kanan Jarrus had any outstanding bounties. Caleb Dume, of course, did. The last time Hera had a contact search the Imperial records for either _Hera Syndulla_ or _Kanan Jarrus_ , they were both in the clear.

They certainly had reasons to have a bounty on their heads, but he had thought they had been careful to avoid detection. Did the events on Gorse catch up with them finally? There was their activity teaming up with the pirates recently. Had the Imps identified them somehow? Or was it worse? Had he let something slip and somehow his past caught up with him? Was there a trail between Caleb and Kanan?

The air was clearer now that they were away from the rockslide and a breeze was starting to stir, making the hairs that escaped from his ponytail tickle him. Unable to pull the loose tendrils back, he scrubbed at his face yet again, when a cold thought occurred to Kanan. Jondo. He knew of Kanan's Jedi past, he knew where they were going, and he knew this canyon. Was he seeking revenge for how Caleb had ditched Janus?

Maybe Jondo couldn’t resist the size of the bounty for a Jedi? And Hera! She was with Jondo. Kanan had managed to save her from the rockslide, but now she was with that man.

Unfortunately, he was in no condition to help himself let alone her. His blaster was tucked into the back of Lirri’s belt. His lightsaber - Force help him that he was even considering using it - was on the Ghost. His hands were bound, his feet shackled, and his comlink busted.

His capture weighed as heavily on his shoulders as the water bladders did. A bounty hunter. Restrained. In strange and hostile environment. And Hera possibly in mortal danger. Lirri was marching him towards the Empire, either as a Jedi or an outlaw. Neither boded well for him. 

The Force wasn’t his friend, but he wasn’t sure what his options were at this point. He scowled as he tried to figure out what to do next. Kanan didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t.

***

Jondo felt Hera’s body stiffen and saw her eyes widen as his hand clasped over her mouth. “Voices carry,” he told her in hushed tones, as his organic eye darted around, looking for threats in the shadows. 

Her brows quirked in confusion until she caught what he was implying. She relaxed and nodded. Jondo released her and pulled his blaster from his holster, turning to scan the canyon.

“We’re not alone?” Hera asked quietly, seeking confirmation. She too spun on her heel, her eyes searching the shadows.

“Kanan’s not. I don’t know about us. But yelling would alert whoever is with him that we’re still around. Assuming they didn’t already hear us on the comlink.”

Jondo flicked a switch on his cybernetic eye to scan in infrared. He rotated 360 degrees before craning his neck upwards to search the canyon lip. Besides Hera blooming like a sun, nothing jumped out immediately as a heat shadow. A scan on the path showed no tracks either. The ground was a bit muddied from their footsteps and where they had fallen, but otherwise, the scans revealed the rock to be as cool and lifeless as ever. He holstered his weapon and switched back to the visible spectrum. The stereoscopic vision that came with using two eyes was better for depth perception.

“The maps! You said there might be an alternate way to get to Kanan.” Hera kept her voice under control, but Jondo detected an urgency underlying it.

He nodded as he started digging through a pack, grunting in frustration. The tiny medpac he had packed wasn't in the bag. Of course, it would be in the bag that Kanan was carrying. 

“First, your head. Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked, moving to look through the bag still on Hera’s back. She staggered, taking a step backward, as he dug through it.

“My head?” She asked bringing her hand to her temple. When she drew it away, there was blood on her fingers. “Oh. No. I don’t think so.”

The cut didn’t appear serious, but it was a head wound and wouldn’t be inclined to stop bleeding anytime soon. She was fortunate that was the worst of the damage from her fall.

And that fall made him think. He had been ahead of Hera when the rockslide occurred and missed seeing what had happened. He remembered her calling out to Kanan, then the first crack. She had crashed into him as he had turned. The clouds of dust and the sting of flying bits of debris had followed. Except she hadn’t been running or falling. It was more like she was tossed. And he had a hunch about how that happened.

Jondo continued digging through the bag until he found something that would suffice as a makeshift bandage. A shirt of Kanan’s by the look of it. He flipped out a survival knife to cut off a sleeve before handing it to Hera. “Use this until it stops. I’ll study the maps.”

The blood was starting to make tracks through the dust on her face. She pressed the shirt to her forehead, smearing the rivulets of blood and nodded.

He wasn’t sure what to make of Hera. She had a confidence the was incongruous with her age - an odd combination of openness and guardedness. A let’s-do-this attitude powered by hope. And she was willing to take the steps it took despite insurmountable odds. Was it the ignorance of youth or a testament to her resolve? He suspected it was the later.

He tapped his vambrace, bringing up the half traced route he had outlined on the holoprojector earlier. Jondo frowned. He needed to rotate the topo maps several times to be sure the path he had marked would get them to Kanan.

Not for the first time, he wondered what Caleb Dume was doing with Hera. Jondo still thought of Kanan as a scared kid, despite his physical maturity. He still had a bravado that fit with his youth. And his Jedi upbringing. What few Jedi Jondo had encountered skewed towards arrogance.

Or perhaps that’s what war did to you - made you see otherness in everyone - and Jondo wasn’t being fair. Kanan might feign a cocky nonchalance, but it was as if he was bluffing his way through life. Was he still on the run? Or had Kanan found his new normal as Jondo had? And what was he doing with a troublemaker like Hera?

Hera squatted next to him to look at the map. Jondo marked the rockslide on the map to help orient her. “Ok, we can head the way we are going for a little bit further, then the canyon splits here, and again here. That allows us to double back and dumps us out above Kanan’s spot."

She nodded before asking, “How long?” Her long slow exhalation revealed her stoicism as a mask.

“30 minutes? An hour? Assuming no other rockslides along the way. More if we need to double back.”

“That’s too long. He’s in danger now.” She stood and began to pace, still pressing the shirtsleeve to her temple.

Jondo pursed his lips thinking. He recalled the exchange he had with Kanan, not long before the rockslide occurred. Kanan was prickly where Hera was concerned, pretty much confirming Jondo’s hunches. Even if the two weren’t in a relationship, Kanan wanted there to be one.

Jondo should have said something reassuring to Kanan. But, some small part of him was still sore about how Caleb had repaid Janus’s act of kindness with the proverbial kick to the teeth. Jondo had often wondered about the little Jedi, never expecting to see him again. He was happy to see he was still alive but felt sad that Kanan still hadn’t grown up yet.

And watching Hera now... Yeah, Hera carried a torch for the kid.

Jondo moved to place his hands on her shoulders, stilling her nervous energy. “The worst of it is over. We’ll need to hurry to catch up to him and whoever is with him, but I don’t think he’s in mortal danger. At least for the moment.”

“What makes you say that?”

“What did you hear on the comlink?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It was so…” she trailed off considering. “He was surprised... A blaster was fired... “ Her brows furrowed as if she was replaying the moment in her mind when her face lit up making a connection. “But it was a stun bolt, not a regular blaster shot!”

“Right.” Jondo smiled at the way she was able to find her focus even despite her worry. “The comlink falling. Footsteps and then, presumably, the com being destroyed.”

“Bounty hunter?” she speculated.

“That would be my guess. Bounties are almost always worth more alive than dead, otherwise, why bother stunning someone. And I don’t know about you, but I can think of several reasons why Kanan might have an outstanding bounty,” he said. “Although I would have hoped the trail had gone cold by now."

A flicker of fear passed over Hera’s face before she smoothed them. Her lekku drooped further as she spoke to the ground. “Yeah. We aren’t exactly model citizens.”


	6. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter rated Teen for mild violence.

The adrenaline was long gone, leaving only mind-numbing fatigue in its place. Unfortunately, it did little to stop the pain in other parts of Kanan’s body. He had developed a hitch in his stride trying to ease the discomfort of the binder digging into his ankle. In turn, the anomaly in his gate was making his calves cramp, which led to more stumbles than a grown man should endure. His shins were hurting more than the busted lip Lirri had given him.

But Kanan ignored his screaming body. His eyes were scanning the ground in front of him, seeking the best path to keep from tripping on the rocks. Or he was looking straight ahead, making a mental map of their location.

“Kriff!” He caught himself against the canyon wall before he brained himself, but his fingers paid the price. He grimaced and worked them out. Not sprained but they were bleeding. Casting a glance over his shoulder at Lirri, he wiped the blood off onto the wall.

He recognized this place. They had stopped for a water break with Jondo and Hera. A lifetime ago. Or two or three hours. He was glad it was familiar. Now, when he returned, he would remember to look for a bloody wall. At every chance he could, he made little notes to himself. Scratch marks on the sides of the canyon. An odd pile of sand in the corner.

Earlier, Kanan had walked as slow as he could get away with as a show of resistance. Now it was because he was tired. The muzzle of a blaster pressed into his ribs kept him moving. The bounty hunter had superior stamina. Or, more likely, a good night's sleep, lighter pack, and no shackles.

They traveled for another hour when Kanan realized he didn’t recognize the canyon. It had distinctive bands of a deeper purple than he had seen up to this point. He stopped short in alarm, not knowing how long they had strayed off their old trail.

“Water break? Gotta pace myself.” It sounded weak to his ears, but Kanan was moving into didn’t-give-a-damn territory.

Lirri sighed but nodded. She found a boulder to perch on, one hand on her blaster, one eye on Kanan.

Dropping into a cross-legged position at the edge of the trail, he faced her. He slumped against the smooth curved wall, his packs propping him up, as he caught his breath. Glancing down the long straight stretch of canyon, Kanan took the opportunity to study the way they had come. Looking past Lirri, he could make out the side trail that he had taken on the way in. It was obvious from this angle but hidden when he and Lirri had passed it.

Lirri adjusted the straps of her pack, but her eyes didn’t leave Kanan. She was so focused on him that she hadn’t noticed they were going the wrong way. Kanan guessed that she didn’t have maps. He wondered if she was expecting him to lead them out.

He weighed telling her that they were on their way to getting lost. On the one hand, getting lost in the wilderness with a limited amount of food and water was foolish. On the other, helping her get back to town to claim the bounty seemed even more asinine. He decided he would take his chances with getting lost.

He tried to reach for one of the waters strapped to his back, but with his wrists in binders, he didn’t have the mobility. “Can I get a hand?”

Lirri glared at him. “This bounty better be worth it.”

Yanking a bag off his shoulders, she popped the lid and took a long drink from it. He pursed his lips, waiting for his turn.

“You know, it’s only fair, that if you are taking me in, you tell me how much the bounty is for?”

Capping the water, she dropped the bladder at his feet. She squinted her eyes at him for a bit as if deciding whether he was worth giving an answer to. He wondered about honor among thieves.

“Fifty-thousand, “ she finally said.

“Fifty-thousand,” Kanan repeated trying to keep his voice even. “On what charge?” he managed to ask, and then took a draw of water to cover his surprise. Fifty-thousand. It was _only_ fifty-thousand. Only. The bounty for a Jedi, even if only a padawan, would be much, much higher.

“Unlawful entry, trespassing, destroying government property, stealing state secrets,” she said.

Kanan struggled to keep the smile off his face. It was for the operation with the pirates - grabbing the information from the droid on the Imperial freighter. Not some show of the Force. His relief gave him energy. And hope. He hadn’t realized how much his ghosts were coming back to haunt him until it was evident this was a new thing. Independent of his past. But he frowned when another thought occurred to him. Had he simply gotten lucky this time?

“What exactly were you trying to do? I mean tangling with the Empire doesn’t seem like the smartest move, so what was worth that risk?” Lirri asked.

“Smart? Yeah, probably not. But fun? That’s more my speed. You should try it sometime. You have a decent skill set if you ever want to switch careers.”

“I don’t bite the hand that feeds me,“ she said crossing her arms and lifting her chin. A gust blew her tendrils into her face for a moment, before they settled back. The wind was picking up. “C’mon. Time to move.”

Kanan nodded while draining the last of the water from the bladder. He tossed it to the side, hoping Lirri wouldn’t comment, before moving to his feet. More wayfinding detritus he hoped.

Their conversation seemed to have jogged something in Lirri's memory. She narrowed her eyes considering. “What were you doing with the Devaronian and the Twi’lek out here?”

Kanan paused for a beat before deciding the truth told flippantly was as good as a lie. “Same old, same old. Looking to trespass, destroy some Imperial property, steal some state secrets.”

“Out here?”

“You’d be surprised. The Empire is everywhere.”

She narrowed her eyes, unsure where the truth was, then shrugged, motioning with her blaster for him to move.

His relief that the bounty wasn't for Caleb felt short lived. Already doubts were creeping in. Kanan needed to figure out how to get free, take care of the bounty hunter, and find his way back to Hera. All without getting lost. As was his usual mode, he had no plans for any of that.

Kanan had lost track of how long they had been hiking when he noticed that the sand was starting to scour his face with every gust. He squished his eyes shut until the worst of it was over. Lirri had taken to wearing her scarf up over her mouth again. The ends of it snapped whenever the wind shifted into more aggressive gusts.

It was clear the storm was moving in. It should have been morning by now. But while the sky was lighting up in the East, it was getting darker in the West, with clouds snuffing out the last of the dawn stars. At least he suspected it was the West. Othoa and her string of moons began to disappear behind the dark leading edge of the storm, and with them, his orientation.

Kanan wondered when Lirri was going to do something in reaction to the storm. The forecast had been for at least a day of clear travel. But scanners could be wrong. The storm had moved in quicker than they had anticipated. He wasn’t sure what a sandstorm would be like on this moon, and he wondered how bad it would get.

“So I’ve been wondering, how you found me,” he said when they got to a straight stretch of canyon. It was wide enough that they could walk abreast. “You have a holographic memory for pretty faces?”

Lirri snorted then considered Kanan, debating how much to say, perhaps. “I scan faces with my optics - bars are good places to see lots of folks in a short period.”

“What and then mosey over to the local Imperial Enforcement Data Core with images and find a match?”

“I’ll scan for bounties originating in this sector. Otherwise, it would take too long. But I don’t go to the office. I have a copy of the data core on a droid. It's a few weeks old, but most outstanding bounties are filled in five to eight months, so it works out ok.”

Whether it was fatigue or boredom, she seemed more talkative than earlier. 

Kanan raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like standard procedure for the guild.”

She scowled at him, her forehead furrowing over the fabric covering her face.

Kanan found her reaction interesting and made a mental note. But he changed the subject, not wanting to antagonize her at this point. “So you wanted to dance with me, just to get a look at my face,” he said bringing his bound hands to his heart. “I’m hurt.”

She shrugged. “Nothing personal. Gotta make a living.”

“Get many matches?”

“Here? On Echea? Maybe one every couple of weeks. But your’s was the largest I’ve gotten.”

Kanan swallowed. _You have no idea._

“You know most people are hoping to get a different kind of lucky at a bar?”

“Who says I don’t get that too.” A hint of a smile touched her eyes.

“Fair point. Work and pleasure. I get the appeal of -” Kanan broke off as a blast of wind hit them.

He had to stop, averting his eyes, until the worst of it had passed. There was more Kanan wanted to find out, but by the time the wind let up, they were walking single file again. A storm was growing, and there wasn’t another opportunity to talk.

Kanan lost track of how many side routes he could have taken, always choosing the straightest path. It was the easiest for him to remember. At some point, the winds stopped being gusts and instead were continuous gales. He needed to keep his head ducked, which made it hard to stay oriented. He could tell Lirri was worried now, but she had yet to say anything. Every time he glanced at her, she was checking over her shoulder. She gave only the most perfunctory of replies to any question he posed.

However bad it was down in this canyon, it was sure to be worse in the open desert they had crossed earlier. Kanan was glad they had stowed the bikes. Not that it was relevant at this point. He was confident they were nowhere near the place the three of them had dropped into the canyons last night.

A darker spot in the haze of the storm caught Kanan’s eye. Squinting, he could just make out a small cave ahead. Part of the canyon wall had collapsed in a narrow slot, creating a low roof and a rear wall. More alcove than actual cover.

He turned towards Lirri, taking a face full of grit. Blinking, he tried again, shielding his face with his hands. She was a fair ways behind him, right where the canyon turned a corner. Her head was cocked as if she was listening. He wondered how she could hear anything in this wind.

“Hey!” He called out. She frowned as if considering something, then jogged to meet him. He grumbled as she was showing no signs of fatigue.

“This is the first shelter I’ve seen,” he said jerking his head towards the cave. “I think we should take it. This storm is only going to get worse.”

He couldn’t read her expression behind her scarf, but she nodded before raising her voice to be heard. “Fine. See what you can do with it. I’m going to scout ahead.” She took a few steps ahead before adding, “Oh, and don’t try anything.” Her threat sounded hollow as if she was distracted.

Kanan paused as she trotted up the trail, surprised that she would let him out of her sight.

Shaking himself, Kanan ducked into the little cave. “Oh, I won’t try anything,” Kanan muttered to himself as he glanced around the space. It wasn’t much of a cave, shallow and partially open. But it was on the leeward side which granted a welcome relief from the constant buffeting of the wind.

“Not for one second will I do anything that would mean my escape and your bounty being denied.” He continued his sarcastic mumbling as he started shedding weight. Shrugging off bags without help was a challenge. His manacled wrists restricted his movements and straps kept catching on everything. He finally discovered, that by bending double he could use gravity as an aid, and he eventually unloaded them.

Sticking his head out of the cave, Kanan immediately chilled his back, where his sweaty shirt clung to him. He saw no sign of Lirri. Seizing on the opportunity, he stepped back into the sheltered space, dropping cross-legged to the ground.

And he surrendered himself to the Force.

Kanan hadn’t known what he was going to do until he was in it. He moved on instinct. What he thought to achieve was beyond him, even as he began to scan the canyons around him. He could recognize Hera’s Force signature, but she would have to be very close for him to find it. He found himself looking anyways. Survival was never something Kanan took for granted. But he wasn’t sure who he was more concerned about at this moment. For himself in the hands of a bounty hunter? Or for Hera whose circumstances were presumably far less precarious?

Intentionally dropping into the Force - this was not something he had done in many, many years. In fact, he had forgotten the last time he had done it. Since before Kanan Jarrus existed, that was for sure. He had used the Force, but it was more instinctually and reactively. Now it was consciously and with purpose. Some small part of himself was surprised.

His posture wasn’t meditative, but his mind knew what to do. Where to find it and how to hold it without grasping or clinging. It felt good to feel it surround him again. Like holding the hand of an old friend. Simultaneously an act of compassion and an awareness of the passage of time.

In his mind’s eye, the Force revealed the cave and the nearby canyon. The biting wind was now a soft haze, not tiny bits of airborne shrapnel. His focus wavered when reminders of the storm brought a flood of worry to the forefront. His concentration skills had atrophied in the many years of disuse, and it affected his ability to stay on task. Breathing out, he allowed himself to put his fears to the side for the moment, instead focusing on where Hera was.

Kanan didn’t expect to be able to see her. He didn’t have the range. But as he allowed his field of vision to widen, like a bird soaring higher, he encountered little of note in the Force on this barren planet. He wondered why he hadn’t encountered Lirri yet. Her force signature should be nearby.

When he couldn’t find it, he probed deeper. His concentration flickered for a moment in surprise. A bright spot in the Force, the kind he only saw with sentient beings, was glowing like a beacon. Except Lirri wasn’t where he expected her to be. She had been scouting up the trail. This signature was unmoving and located back the way they had already come.

Kanan tried to get a read on her. As a padawan, he was very attuned to his master’s emotions and to a lesser degree his peers and teachers. But his skills were rusty, and he got no feelings of either fear or curiosity from her.

He paused on her signature for a long moment, trying to make sense of the situation before dropping his focus to widen his net of awareness. 

A sudden intake of breath between clenched teeth marked the moment when Kanan located Hera. It was her signature, and she was with someone - Jondo. Moving in Kanan’s direction, they left a swirling path in the Force like a trail marking the place they had been moments before. 

But they were also moving towards Lirri. Unmoving Lirri. Waiting Lirri.

Kanan jerked out of his meditation.

An ambush. 

Kanan’s binders clanked as he rose. He stumbled out of the cave, tripping over his shackled ankles, before cursing and squinting through the wind. He scanned the canyon walls above him. The noise of the wind was loud in his ears after his mental calm. Lirri would seek higher ground if she could find it. 

And he found it. A harder layer of sediment created a natural shelf, just wide enough for a humanoid, that would provide a superior vantage point. It sloped upwards in Hera’s direction. Kanan headed the opposite direction, running with mincing short steps, looking for a way to access the ledge. He was debating whether to use the Force to jump up on it when he rounded a corner and saw a boulder he could use to clamber up. 

He struggled to get up with his limbs bound, cursing his slow progress. Once on the ledge, he put all his focus into a fast shuffle. He ignored the drop-off. He ignored the loosened pebbles dropping into the chasm. And he stopped for far too long when a strong gust slammed him against the wall. Mentally calculating how far Hera was from Lirri based on her rate of travel, he kept coming up with _too close_.

As Kanan rounded a corner, he shielded his face from a gust. When it lessened, he saw Lirri prone on the ground. She had her blaster rifle propped on top of a boulder, snug against her shoulder, her eye on the scope. She was aiming at something outside of Kanan’s view, down in the canyon.

Kanan wasn’t sure why he hadn’t noticed the make of the rifle earlier. It had been slung over her shoulder the whole trip. A DC-15A. An old Republic issued blaster. The kind a trooper would carry during the Clone Wars. They were falling out of rotation and becoming harder to find, but they still showed up from time to time. Kanan tried not to think too hard about them. He was intimately familiar with having that particular model pointed at himself. 

At his master. 

And now at Hera. 

“NO!” his voice had been loud and piercing in his throat, but the wind pulled at it. When it finally passed his lips It was weak and anemic. More whisper than yell. Fear and rage coursed through him.

Kanan saw the flare of blue light at the blaster’s muzzle, rather than heard it’s distinctive sound. He knew he was too late for that bolt. But still, he lunged. This time he wasn’t running from the rifle but towards it.

Lirri turned and grunted in surprise as he leaped on her. Her mouth worked silently, opening and closing, as she struggled to find the air that had been knocked out. Kanan went for her blaster, yanking it from her grip. It sprang free of his hands, clattering on the rocks before slipping over the edge. 

Kanan rose to his knees to get some distance for a blow, but his bound limbs kept him off balance. He fell on her in a pitiful grapple, his hands bent at awkward angles between them. 

She made a feral sound and shoved him. Adjusting to a fighting style with bound limbs, Kanan clasped his hands together then aimed his elbow at her jaw. At the last minute, Lirri whipped her head sideways, so he only grazed her cheek. She brought her knee up towards his groin, and he deflected the blow by rolling sideways. Seeing an opening, Lirri pulled away and was on her feet in an instant.

Still, on his knees, Kanan spun around as she pulled her hand blaster from its holster. Adrenaline gave him a grace he lacked earlier. He leaped to his feet, only to dive back to the ground at the sound of blaster fire. Bolts crackled overhead, ricocheting off the stone and leaving black carbon scoring against the pink walls. The shots had originated from below. He covered his head instinctively, yanking his wrist painfully when they didn’t move in tandem.

Lirri had ducked as well. At a lull in the shooting, she lunged for her bag and ran away from the incoming blaster fire. He moved to follow her when something caught the corner of his eye. His blaster. It must have come loose from Lirri’s waistband when he jumped her. Kanan swooped down and grabbed the pistol when something made him pause again. It was the Force nudging him to pay attention, but Kanan was too angry to heed it at this moment.

He took off at a fast hobble. Lirri was far quicker than he was and was already dropping to the canyon floor from the ledge. He snarled, fumbling to switch the safety off his pistol. He squeezed off a shot as she vaulted off the rock. Rock shards flew into the air as the bolt sailed over her head and into the canyon wall. 

She was getting away. 

The temptation was there. To use his Force abilities to prevent her escaping. It was Kanan’s training that stopped him. He knew when anger was driving his motivation. His desire, after all these years, to not succumb to dark tendencies. He might not be a Jedi anymore, but he still had more sense than that. But it was his training as a fugitive that stilled his mind and kept him from reaching into the Force. Instead, he cursed under his breath and moved with jerking steps down the edge of the canyon.

Leaping off the boulder onto the path, Kanan stumbled. He fell to his knees as Jondo called out to him. The man’s voice cut through his anger. Kanan struggled to his feet and gave one last look down the canyon after Lirri, disappointed.

“Hold still,” Jondo commanded as he approached.

His chest still heaving, Kanan averted his head holding his bound hands. Jondo squeezed off one bolt, and the restraining connector of the binders broke, releasing the clasps around his wrists. It hit the ground, the clanking noise lost in the wind.

“Where’s Hera?” Kanan demanded. He presented a foot for Jondo’s blaster. Two blasts later, Kanan was kicking the restraints off his ankles.

Jondo jerked his head the way he had come. “Back there.” They were both yelling to be heard over the storm.

Kanan gave him a curt nod and took a step in Lirri’s direction, his mind already whirring with a plan of attack. 

“Kanan!” 

He didn’t know if it was Jondo’s tone or the Force whispering into his ear that made him stop and give the man a sharp look. 

“She’s hurt,” Jondo said when Kanan met his eyes. Not a question.

Jondo nodded with a quick jerk of his head, opening his mouth to clarify, but Kanan was already sprinting towards Hera. Running felt like flying after hours spent hobbling around, but it wasn’t fast enough. He took the bend too quickly and slapped a palm on the wall to keep from slamming into it. His eyes scanned the new vista, afraid of what he would see. 

She was walking in his direction. She was ok. Huddled against the driving wind, but alright. The rush of relief made him giddy, and he released the breath he had been holding. 

Except... She was moving with slow, small steps. And she wasn’t huddling against the wind. She was hugging herself - or maybe she was cradling her arm to her body. The wind whipped the ends of her poncho around and made it difficult to see her form.

“Hera!” 

She looked so small as she held herself, the walls of the canyon looming above her. But her head snapped up at his voice. Hope and pain etched on her face. 

“You’re ok,” she said as he ran up. Her relief was palpable. She moved to touch him, her left hand coming up to grip the back of his neck, part caress, part hug. Her right arm hung limply at her side.

“Yeah. But you aren’t,” Kanan replied as he searched Hera's face. Her eyes had a tightness to them, and her skin was tinged with gray.

Glancing around Kanan realized they were standing outside the cave he had meditated in earlier. Taking her good arm, he shepherded her inside. Out of the worst of the wind, he noticed the hole in her poncho, the edges laced with black carbon scoring. He lifted the hem up, draping it over her shoulder. Just under the edge of her armor, there was another smaller hole in her shirt.

“Just grazed.” She said through gritted teeth. “Who was it?”

“Bounty hunter.” Kanan’s eyes flicked towards her face to gauge her reaction.

But pain obscured her feelings. She bit her lip, nodding, before asking, “How many?”

“One. Our job with the pirates. I don’t know why she singled me out. Maybe you don’t have a bounty, or perhaps she simply didn’t recognize you.” 

Hera nodded again. He couldn’t get a read on how she felt about the bounty. Although he knew it didn’t make sense, some part of Kanan felt responsible.

Kanan returned to inspecting her arm. With practiced ease, he unfastened her shoulder armor, dropping it to the ground, and then gripped the edges of her shirt ripping the hole further. Hera hissed when he accidentally brushed her arm. 

He gave a sympathetic wince. “Sorry.”

Now that it was revealed, he could see the bolt had cauterized the top layer of skin. A painful but superficial wound. He let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. It’s not deep. But we need to get this bandaged.”

“We don’t have a medpac,” Jondo said, ducking his head as he entered the cave. “It was in one of the bags that you left behind. And then we left it again to travel faster.” He dropped Lirri's rifle on the ground before pulling up the holomap with a tap of his vambrace.

Kanan scowled. “Well, we can’t stay here. The storm is picking up, and while this gives us some shelter, Hera needs bacta. Can we make it back to the bikes? Or to the outpost?”

Jondo nodded vigorously, jabbing a finger at the projected image. “Since you and the hunter took a wrong turn, we ended up moving closer towards the outpost. We’re only a klick away from the entrance, 20 minutes away in this storm. The outpost will have medical supplies.” 

“Assuming our codes still hold,” Hera added. 

Kanan frowned, studying Hera. “How are you doing? Can you make it to the outpost?” 

Hera gave him a wane smile. “I’ll be ok. Besides, I don’t think we have much choice. This storm is only going to get worse.”

Kanan nodded, his face grim. “Let me bind this, and we’ll head out.”

He ended up cutting Hera’s sleeve completely off to use as a makeshift bandage. He held her arm gently as he secured it, troubled at the turn of events, not quite sure where the guilt was coming from. 

“You’re hurt,” she said, looking pointedly at his face. 

He wondered which looked worse, the puffy eye or the fat lip. 

He chuffed as he pulled her poncho down over her bound arm. “I’m fine. Only a fist. It’s not like it was a plasma bolt.” 

She gave him a small smile at his weak attempt at levity. Kanan turned to gather a few of their supplies but stopped when Hera placed a hand on his upper arm. “Thank you.” 

The smile he gave her didn’t make it to his eyes. Hera shook her head and moved closer to emphasize her words. 

“No. For the rock slide,” she clarified.

Kanan looked away at the reminder. If there hadn’t been a bounty on his head, he wouldn’t have had to use the Force. He opened his mouth to speak something flippant or sarcastic. But then he snapped it shut. He couldn’t joke about this. About her getting hurt. About using the Force. About bounties.

He studied her face, his fingers trailing down her cheek, across dried blood and sweat, dimly aware of Jondo watching them. Kanan dropped his hand.

_Right, give her space. Don’t touch._

Hera’s hand slid down his arm to squeeze his hand. “C’mon. Let’s go.”


	7. Station

Hera gritted her teeth. The storm had picked up in earnest now, and she had to lean into the wind or risk being pushed over. Even so, every couple of steps were stumbling ones. She led with her left side - the good side - to shield the wound from the worst of the pounding. Her flight goggles gave her passable vision as she staggered through the canyons. Not that there was much to see. It should have been late morning, but it was darker than the start of their nighttime hike into the canyonlands.

Jondo led the way and had given up on his organic eye, pulling the hood of his cloak tight over his face. Only his cybernetic one peeked out. Hera could feel Kanan’s hand splayed against her shoulder blade. It was a helpful counterpressure whenever the wind got the best of her balance, but she also suspected that she was leading him.  Untucking his shirt, he had pulled the neck up to cover his nose and mouth. With no eye covering, his eyes were scrunched closed to protect himself against the airborne particles and her flailing lekku. His chin was tucked in as he allowed her to guide him.

Hera conceded she was anxious. It had been a risk heading out before the storm. She hadn’t considered getting waylaid by a bounty hunter, and now they were in the thick of it. She was counting on Jondo’s pathfinding through this maze. And once they made it there, those old codes had better work or - she didn’t like to consider that possibility.

To be fair, the pain made it hard to think straight. She was fortunate to have only been grazed by the shot, but it was still a plasma bolt through the top layer of her skin. Sometimes it was a sharp piercing pain, and other moments it was the diffuse throb of a burn. Always it was distracting, pulling at her thoughts.

After the rockslide, she and Jondo had moved quickly, trying to close the distance to the bounty hunter. Hera hadn’t considered possibilities; she had been single-minded in finding Kanan. Discovering evidence of his trail had brought a wave of unexpected emotion over her. She had clutched the empty water bladder to her chest, feeling both sinking dread and sudden hope. They pressed on with renewed energy despite the increasing winds.

As they closed in on the pair and visibility decreased, Jondo had taken to scanning for heat signatures. When he started tracking slower, Hera had known they were close. They had only the briefest of warnings - a faint cry carrying over the wind - when she heard the familiar sound of blaster fire. Hera immediately dove for cover, but it took longer for the searing pain in her arm to register. Jondo dropped behind a boulder with Hera, honing in on the source of the bolt before firing off a retaliating shot. He rose to give chase but stopped short upon seeing her face contorted in pain.  

Hera gave a quick jerk of her head. “Go!” she had barked. “Get Kanan!”

And Jondo had.

She had been so relieved to see Kanan was safe. She knew she wasn’t responsible for everything, but sometimes that was hard to see where that edge was. It was her ship, her operation, her mission. He never hid the fact that this wasn’t his fight.  She had pushed for the raid on the Imperial freighter over his objections, and now he had a bounty on his head. It was sobering.  

Hera felt comfortable with the risks she took for herself. But she had yet to figure out how much she should be willing to gamble with other’s lives. And did it make a difference that it was her lover’s life? Trying to hold in her head her responsibilities to Kanan as crew vs. Kanan as lover was maddening. It got too confusing, too quickly. She found herself downplaying the distinction.

Jondo pulled her out of her thoughts, raising his hand signaling them for a stop. Attempts at speech would have been pointless in this wind. Instead, he gestured into the gloom. Squinting, she could make out the smooth surface of blast doors built into a recessed space in the canyon wall. A space she would have missed if she had been wandering out here on her own.

Leaving Kanan’s reassuring hand, she hurried forward, feeling a small reprieve from the constant buffeting in the alcove. Gingerly guiding the strap of her bag over her wounded arm, she dug through it looking for her supplies. Grabbing a small power cell, a data cube with the security codes, and a few tools, she studied the control box and placed her supplies on the ground. The wind caused them to slide across the ground until she trapped them under her foot.

Kanan and Jondo approached the door, examining the exterior. Jondo fingered some score marks in the blast doors. It appeared that looters had already tried to gain access. The control box that Hera was dismantling also showed clear evidence of being tampered with. The thieves hadn’t gained access, or the doors would have shown more damage from forced entry. That was encouraging. It had been nine years since the station had been abandoned, but it seemed its remoteness was working in their favor.

Swaying with every gust, Kanan bent his head to examine the placard next to the door controls. She could just make the words in the low light:

_The Galactic Republic - Echea Surveillance and Listening Station - Garrison #25899._

Something about Kanan troubled Hera. He appeared dazed, although it was hard to make out his expressions with his shirt pulled up over his face.

“Kanan?” She had to raise her voice despite his proximity so that the inflection was lost.

Either the wind was too loud, or he was too distracted because he didn’t respond. Hera shook her head, figuring out what he was going could happen once they were inside.

She fumbled with the power couplers, trying to attach them to the small external power cell. The sandstorm and pain were both challenging her fine dexterity skills. She finally managed to connect the ends and was rewarded with the flickering lights of the control box powering up.  The data cube took three attempts to connect, but it was now blinking as it ran through the security codes.

The blast doors made a mechanical thud as the catch released. Hera let go of the breath she hadn't realize she was holding, as the doors heaved opened.  It wasn't the subdued whooshing noise of a new door, but instead a tooth aching shriek of durasteel on sand.

Disassembling her equipment, Hera cradled her tools in her poncho, hurrying inside.  Kanan, posture rigid, followed Jondo.

Retracing her steps, she powered up the door from the inside. As the doors began their slow grind shut, Hera dug through her bag until she found two flashlights. Jondo wouldn’t need one with his cybernetics. Kanan took the one she pressed into his hand with only a cursory glance. He clicked the light on, scanning the hallway in front of them.

The relief from the storm was immense as the doors shut with a dull thud. The quiet was jarring after the incessant roar of the wind. Hera shed her goggles,  holding the flashlight in her mouth as she disassembled and gathered her tools one last time.

“Ready?” Jondo's voice echoed in the stillness as he jerked his head up the ramp, deeper into the facility.

Hera rose and nodded, keeping the beam of her light pointed down and out of eyes. Ignoring the way the throbbing in her arm was growing, she reached out to put a hand on Kanan’s elbow.

“Hey, you ok?”

He glanced at her, pulling his shirt down off his face. “Yeah..." He drew out the word as if thinking, before continuing, "You didn’t mention that it was a Republic outpost.”

Hera frowned in surprise. “Does it matter?”

In the gloom, she could just make out the line where his shirt had shielded the lower half of his face, the top taking on a reddish cast.

“I suppose not," he said. His lips quirked with a forced grin as he turned to go.

The ramp ascended into what appeared to be a central control room. Various command consoles were arranged around a central station. Black chairs faded to beige from years of dust gathering were strewn around. Hera flicked her flashlight over each, creating long ghostly shadows. Based on the types of controls and their labels, Hera recognized a few of the functions of each station. There was a console for shield generators and scans, one for outgoing communications, and another for life support and technical systems. The last one looked to be the listening station proper.

“We’ll need light and power before we can do anything else,” Jondo said.

Hera hummed in acknowledgment before turning in a circle. Besides the ramp that they had come up, her flashlight revealed three hallways leading off.

“Utilities will be centrally located, as will troop support services. Find the mess hall, and you’ll know you are on the right track,” Kanan said, flicking his light to the central hallway.

“Right.” Jondo nodded and headed the way Kanan had signaled.

Hera raised an eyebrow at Kanan. He shrugged his shoulders at her look, before dropping his packs in a pile in the center of the space. He took a side hallway, scanning his path with his flashlight. She frowned, wondering how he knew the location of things and why he wasn’t helping. The sooner they got this up and running the sooner they could take a break.

Hera took the same hallway Jondo had.  Casting her light into an open doorway revealed a  room full of a dozen or so bunks. The barracks. Hurrying to catch up to the man, she entered a large room that could only be described as a mess hall. Tables and chairs were strewn about haphazardly, some set as if for a meal, other's shoved in a cluster to one side.

It appeared Jondo’s intel was correct. The listening station had been abandoned and not cleared out. The Empire had just given up on it, leaving behind a sealed time capsule. She hoped this meant more potential resources than a properly closed station might contain. Hera also wondered if all the systems had been properly shut down, otherwise who knew what they would find when they tried to restart them.

Seeing no sign of Jondo,  she headed towards the only exit - a swinging door that led into a kitchen.

“Over here!” Jondo called out.

He was investigating a sliding door tucked out of the way behind a corridor of shelving. The word "Utilities" was emblazoned on it along with the familiar symbol for high voltage. Kanan apparently knew what he was talking about. Looking around Jondo found a pot lid and shoved it into the crack of the door, attempting to wedge it open.

Struggling for a moment, he said, “No go. We’ll need to power it.”

Gritting her teeth, Hera pulled the portable power cell out of her bag once again. Jondo must have sensed her pain, as he held his hand out. She placed her supplies in his palm and gave him a grateful smile.

Once he powered up the door,  the generators were easy to spot. Two hulking pieces of machinery with thick ropes of power couplings attached dominated the room. Hera held the flashlight for him as he prepped them. Jondo gave Hera a hopeful look before pulling the main power switch. She held her breath as the generators first whined, then hummed, before settling into a crackly, electric buzz. Another second later the lights in the room blazed into illumination.

Jondo let out a sigh of relief, and with a broad grin said, “Maybe our luck is changing.”

The two started outlining their next steps as they made their way back to the central command room.

“I’ll start on getting the listening systems up,” Hera suggested. “You and Kanan can figure out the water situation. I don’t think we want to put that off.”

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his reaction to working with Kanan. She wondered if the situation with the bounty hunter had provided a temporary truce to whatever was going on between the two.

Jondo nodded giving Hera no clue about his feelings at working with Kanan. “I’m concerned that if the reservoir has become contaminated that the purifier might not function in the storms...” He trailed off deep in thought.

Hera grunted in agreement. So many variables. She didn’t feel over her head yet, but it felt far riskier than it had in theory. Dropping into a chair in front of the listening station console, she ignored the cloud of dust she displaced. She found that by placing her arm just right, she could minimize its movement.  This granted her a modicum of concentration as she considered her next steps.

First was gaining access to the listening system, then determining which modules needed to be brought online. Selecting a few promising ones, Hera crossed her fingers as she entered the commands. Red warning lights elicited a string of muttered curses from her. She chewed on her lip, considering. Perhaps running the diagnostic routines would give her a clue on how the modules worked together.

She barely registered Kanan returning as he pulled up a seat next to her, so close his knees brushed against her legs.

“Hey.” His voice was low.

“What?” she snapped finally glancing at him.

He waved a bacta patch and bandages at her by way of explanation. A medpack was in his lap. All the tension drained from her face as she apologized, “Sorry, I’m-”

“I know. You’re in pain.  I can wrap this while you work.”

Hera sat back and sighed as he lifted the poncho to examine her arm. “Thank you.”

She could feel the heat radiating off of it from shoulder to forearm. Her skin felt a size too small, tight and swollen. Using a utility knife, Kanan cut away the rest of her torn and charred sleeve.

A smile tugged at her lips when she realized where he had wandered off to while she and Jondo worked on the power. “You went to find the medical supplies.”

“Yeah, and scout around.” He was gentle, holding her elbow steady as he examined and cleaned the wound, but still, she bit her lip. “This corridor has supplies and another access entrance. I suspect that one,” he said jerking his head to the far hallway, “leads to the machine room and listening station equipment. Maybe the water reservoirs.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, abandoning any attempt at work. When Kanan finally applied the bacta patches, she wasn’t able to stifle the groan. There was the initial pain of contact, followed by a soothing coolness as the medicine kicked in. She opened her eyes to find him studying her through lowered lashes as he wrapped the dressing.

"Thank you." She was surprised at the tenderness in her voice.

This time he was the one to hum in response as he tested the snugness of the bandage by manipulating her arm. Satisfied he sat back. She inspected his handiwork, running her hand over the taut wrap.

Kanan held out his hand with two pills in them. “The bacta will only help so much. This will take care of the rest.”

“That will put me to sleep.”

“Which you need.”

“Nuh-uh. When I’m done here.”

“Hera,” he said sternly, placing his upturned palm in front of her, where she couldn’t ignore it.

She gave him a pointed look, then took the pills and put them on the edge of the console before turning back to work. She could feel his frown.

Ignoring him, she returned her focus to the options on the screen and opened the one labeled Messages. Seeing nothing useful, she was about to close it when a message labeled _Echea Station Shutdown Instructions_ caught her eye. Could she reverse the shutdown process to start it up again?

The message turned out to be a holographic recording. A Republic clone officer sputtered into existence on top of the console. The interlaced blue form began speaking, gesturing to emphasize his words.

“The procedures for shutting down the Echea Listening Station System are as follows: First ensure that all-”

A sudden clattering of metal on duracrete made Hera start. She turned to see Kanan staring at the holovid.  His lips were parted, and his head turned as if was trying to avert his eyes. A chair was lying on its side next to him.

Hera raised her eyebrows expectantly at him. “What?” she asked when he didn’t respond.

He shook his head slowly, before murmuring, “I’ll be...” He gestured over his shoulder, but his eyes never left the holovid as he backed away. Stumbling across his fallen chair, he finally broke his gaze and spun on his heel.

Jondo appeared at the same moment from the far corridor. He raised his eyebrow at Kanan’s retreating back before turning towards Hera.

Hera set her jaw, muttering. “Make yourself useful, Kanan.”

Jondo’s frowned as the holovid clone droned on. “It’s almost like he’s seen a ghost,” he said more to himself than Hera, before turning towards her. “There is a small amount of potable water in the reservoir. That should hold us for drinking, but no promises on there being enough for a shower.”

She nodded not feeling in the mood to talk, confused about what had happened. Jondo seemed to sense her unease as he debriefed her on what their next steps were. He patiently repeated himself after she gave him a blank look before excusing himself to go work on the water pump.

Hera grabbed a datapad as she replayed the shutdown instruction holovid. This time she took notes. A few moments later her thoughts caught up to her, her mouth forming a silent ‘oh’ of realization. Why a clone would be a ghost to Kanan. She shook her head. “I’m an idiot,” she said to no one in particular and dug the heel of her hand into her eyes, wishing things weren’t so complicated.

 

* * *

 

Kanan watched Hera as he sat across from her. His feet were resting on the console in front of him, crossed at the ankles and leaving boot imprints in the dust.

He and Chopper had established the communication link with the Ghost. They would need it when the data started coming in. It had taken longer than he would have liked since Chopper argued with him over the comlink every step of the way. In the end, the droid knew his stuff, but Kanan hadn’t been ready to concede until fatigue pushed him to give in. Things went quicker once he did whatever the droid told him to do.  It had been a roller coaster of a day, and Kanan was ready for it to end.

Jondo had excused himself not long ago, heading for the officer quarters. Kanan had already set up the enlisted barracks for himself and Hera, and he was waiting for her to finish up before retiring. She had succeeded in getting the listening system operational and now was double and triple checking the first signals coming in. Typically Hera staying up wouldn’t have stopped him from going to bed, but he was concerned. The pain tablets were no longer next to her. He wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign.

When her head started to dip down before jerking upright, her lekku swaying with the motion, Kanan rose.

“C’mon, Hera, we need to call it a night.”

She perked up. “Yeah, yeah, just, one more thing.”

Kanan sighed and stood next to her to make sure she got the message.

“Yes! Ok, I think… I can…” She rose still thinking out loud, as she blinked rapidly, trying to shake her fatigue.

“You did good today, captain,” Kanan said. “But the rest of the work can wait until tomorrow. Either we’re gathering data, or we aren’t, but none of us are functioning anymore.”

“You’re right. I wanted to-” A huge yawn interrupted Hera’s momentum.

Kanan put his hands on her shoulders steering her away from the console and towards the hallway where the barracks were located. “Bed,” he said.

“Yes,” Hera conceded blearily and then stopped short as a thought occurred to her. “Wait, not with you.” Her words were starting to slur together.

Kanan felt a prick of irritation, but his tone was gentle.  “No, not with me.” He gave her another nudge to get her moving again. “You can pick out your own bunk. But I’ve called dibs on the one near the door.”

“Right,” she repeated, and then promptly swayed. Without thinking, Kanan moved to her uninjured side and slipped an arm under hers, then winced waiting for her rebuke.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “The … medicine.”

He relaxed, glad she was too tired to care and glad the pain pills only relaxed her. He didn’t think he could deal with a high Hera on top of a tired one at this moment.

“How are you feeling?” He guided her to the closest bunk where she sat down heavily.

“It still burns. But it’s a lot better than it was.” She bent over struggling with her boot. “Getting shot isn’t so bad.”

He winced at the bluntness of her words as he knelt in front of her, brushing her hands away from her boots.

“Then again I was only grazed. I imagine that actually getting-”  

“Hera,” he said, cutting her off from that line of thinking. “I get the picture.”

He tugged her boots off for her, before peeling her socks off as she shrugged the poncho over her head. He took it and her gloves and goggles, placing them in a pile by the trunk next to the bed. Kanan made no move to undress her further and was glad when she started pulling at the blankets. Tonight he didn’t want to see more of her beautiful body.

“They cleared out most of the bedding but not the armor and weapons. Go figure.” He nodded towards the rack where the troopers kept stored their gear when they weren’t wearing it. Still lined up with military precision for an army that was long gone. Kanan had considered removing the weapons and armor when making up the bunks to sleep in, but something made him hesitate, not wanting to touch the equipment.

“But I managed to find a bit for the beds.” He hoped that she wouldn’t notice that some of the blankets were towels.

Kanan dimmed the lights in the room then sat on the bunk next to Hera. As exhausted as he felt, he wasn’t quite ready for sleep. Watching her as she settled in, putting her injured arm over the covers so that they didn’t pull on her bandage, was a new experience. He had slept with her in the past, but that was always after sex. The simple act of falling asleep like this was different. Somehow it felt more intimate watching her from the space of his bunk than when she was naked in his arms.

In the dim light, he could make out her eyelashes start to flutter shut, when they snapped open. Her eyes sought him.

“You know your way around here.”  There was a hint of a question in her voice.

He shifted on the bunk, wary of where she was going with her comment. “Not really.”

“This is all familiar to you because you’ve been here before. I mean not here, here, but at Republic bases. The Clone Wars. When you were a Jedi?”

He closed his eyes. It should be easy to answer. He knew that Hera knew who he had been, but they had never discussed it. Kanan had been pretending for so long that some days he could even forget his past. But he could never truly shake it. To admit it out loud went against every extinct he’d honed to survive.

Yet for her? Didn’t she deserve his honesty?

Swallowing, he studied his hands, gathering his courage. “Yeah.” It came out in a breathy huff.

When she was quiet,  Kanan glanced up to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were closed even as her breath evened out.

He stayed awake for a long time, watching the rise and fall of her chest, wondering how he had come to this place.

 

* * *

Kanan slowly blinked his eyes open, woken by a sound or a fleeting dream.

In the darkened room he could just make out a naked woman.  

The headdress covering her lekku was her most substantial item of clothing. Everything else was closer to threads. The Twi’lek was frozen in an unnatural pose. One lek was curled over her bare breasts as she leaned forward. Her hands were placed strategically between her thighs.  Her gaze was beguiling.

He squinted at the incongruous pinup girl plastered on the underside of the bunk above him. The first and last thing some soldier saw when sleeping.

He must have fallen asleep. Kanan was on top of the blankets and still wearing his boots. He couldn’t even recall laying down. He scrubbed at his face, wondering how long he'd been out. Without sitting up, he turned towards Hera, her form a lump in the darkness. The door controls emitted enough light to illuminate her profile. He would recognize it anywhere.

A study in Twi’leki contrasts.  The poster represented a hyper-feminine representation of what the generic male gaze wanted - copious amounts of skin and a sexy come-hither look.  The other was what a very specific man wanted to see. Hera was infinitely practical in her baggy flight suit.  The only reason she was revealing any amount of skin was due to her missing sleeve. The lines of her face were smooth and her breathing deep and even as she slept.

Kanan was smiling, even as his focus shifted from her profile to the wall behind her. The weapons and helmets propped against the wall made the bottom of his stomach drop out. Seeing both Hera and the weapons in his line of sight was too much and his smile faded.  At one point the distinctive outline of the clone trooper helmet with its fin and t-visor was comfortingly familiar. Now, sweat was starting to bead on his forehead.

Kanan swung his legs over the side of the bunk and rose. He wouldn’t be able to sleep again this night.  The desiccating winds of the storm had left him thirsty,  so he headed towards the mess hall, in search of water, when he paused. It was a sound that had woken him. Or rather, it was the absence of sound.

Jondo and Kanan had started the climate control last night which brought the ambient temperature closer to something comfortable for the three of them. It created a quiet whooshing in the ducts as the air was heated then recirculated. But that white noise was now gone. Narrowing his eyes he glanced down the hallway, realizing the lights that were on were too dim as well.

Kanan cursed then dropped his head in sudden realization. The power supply was going. Doubling back to the central command room, he grabbed a flashlight before heading towards the power generators to investigate.

“We’ve got problems,” Kanan told Jondo an hour later, ducking under a loop of power couplings in the utility room to face the Devaronian. Jondo had the puffy look of someone who had only recently woken up.

Kanan gave him the short version of what he had discovered. “The generators are failing, and the listening station will be out of power soon. Hera thinks she got the system operational last night but wasn’t able to confirm it. We might be gathering data now, but if the power goes in the next several hours...” Kanan shrugged.

Jondo sighed but nodded stroking his chin as he considered Kanan's words. “Maybe if we cut the power way back? And the climate control, lights, plus pump enough water for drinking?”

Kanan chewed his lip. “Yeah. We’ll need to keep the listening station, ground to air coms, and a minimal amount of light, but it might buy us more time.”

Neither were excited to be undoing all the work they had spent the previous day doing, but they were focused. They studied the main power control panel as they discussed options. Physically overriding some of the connections would allow them to fine tune their control, so they set to work rerouting the power couplers.

During a quiet moment, Jondo spoke. “He asked about you, you know. Janus.”

Kanan froze, the hardware still in his hands but Jondo kept working.

“We still move in the same circles," Jondo said. "Team up on jobs as needed. I saw him a year or so ago.  Wondering what’s become of you. If you are still alive.”

Kanan let his breath out in a slow exhalation,  before ducking his head to give Jondo a sidelong glance. “How is Janus?”

“He’s okay. Same as always. Hides his hope behind a shield of bitterness.”

Kanan waited to see if the man would comment on possible sources of that bitterness. When it didn’t come, he found himself speaking. “We all have regrets. I - I have regrets.”

“If I see him again. I can … let him know,” Jondo said, his voice carefully neutral, for which Kanan was grateful.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Kanan murmured, closing his eyes for a beat before returning his attention to the job at hand.

There were only a few more steps they needed to take before the power could be switched off. Kanan grabbed an ancient looking ration bar for his breakfast as he passed through the kitchen. He ate it as he checked on every door in the station, ensuring they were left in the open position. He stopped by the barracks to place a flashlight and an extra blanket by Hera’s bunk, stealing one last glance at her as she slept.

He met Jondo back at the utility room.

“Any trouble with the water?” Kanan asked.

Jondo shook his head. “I pumped enough for about five days. If we need more than that we’ll have to send a bucket down on a rope.”

Kanan grunted then moved to the main control panel. Glancing at Jondo, who gave him a small nod, he started flipping switches off.  There was a sudden silence as various machines ceased to work. As the room was pitched into darkness, Kanan fumbled for his flashlight even as his eyes began adjusting. Jondo’s features were illuminated by the blue light of the datapad he was studying. The bars on his screen fluctuated as the system adjusted to a new load.

Jondo made a noise deep in his chest and then cursed. “Still not enough,” he said tapping at some figure on his display. “We have, maybe...” he said, his good eye squinting as he did some mental calculations, “half a day.”

Kanan turned his back to Jondo to hide his disappointment. He heard the datapad clatter to the work surface.

“This isn’t going to work. We need more time,” Jondo muttered in frustration.

Kanan turned the problem over in his mind, searching for some angle they might have missed. Why had they planned so badly?

Actually... Their planning had been ok, they just ran into bad luck with the bounty hunter and the storm and losing their supplies.

Kanan tipped his head sideways as a thought occurred to him.

“What about the power cells you left behind?” Kanan asked.

He knew Jondo and Hera hadn’t taken everything with them while chasing after him and the bounty hunter. They needed to make good time, and the power cells had been heavy. He felt a twinge of guilt about being the cause of the loss of the cells.

Jondo drew back, frowning.  “The ones out in the storm? They would work, but we don’t know how much longer this storm will last before we could retrieve them. We're talking days not hours before it's over. We’ll be out of power before then.”

“What if we - What if I go get them?” Kanan asked.

Jondo raised his only eyebrow at him.

“Now,” Kanan said by way of clarifying.

“In the storm? Do you have a death wish?” Then he chuckled. “Don't answer that.”

“No, listen, how far away are they? An hour at most, if there was no storm? And it sounded like the storm was lessening when I checked the lights in the front corridor.”

“I don’t know...” Jondo shook his head. “I suspect that it’s the eye of the storm, not the end of it.”

“It can work if I hurry and you outline the route I need to take.“

Jondo studied Kanan for a long moment. “You don’t like being here, do you?”

Kanan drew back. “That’s not it.”  Then slumped conceding, “Ok, it might be some of it.” He hesitated, before continuing. “This doesn’t bring back memories for you?”

Jondo looked at him at the corner of his good eye, weighing his comments. “Some, but the Republic was never as much a threat to me as it was for you, I suspect.”

“Even as a Separatist?”

“It never felt personal. I was just a pawn in a game they were playing. The Jedi?” Kanan flinched, but Jondo was looking in the distance and missed it. “That always struck me as personal. I don’t know if I can say it was the same for you. You betrayed -”

“We never betrayed-” Kanan said, his voice deadly quiet.

“I know. But that’s how the Empire made it out to be. And they get to write history. The Empire only wanted to assimilate the Confederacy. The Jedi? They wanted - want - you all dead to the last youngling.”

Kanan ground his teeth together as he stepped away from Jondo. Feelings long suppressed threatened to find their way to the surface. He laced his fingers behind his neck, struggling to bring his ragged breath under control. Jondo wasn’t his enemy. His enemy was long gone, morphed into something more deadly and faceless. And talking about his past wasn’t helping his present.

“Just help me find the route,” Kanan bit out before he strode out to gather supplies.

Half an hour later, Kanan was cinching his bags and eating a stale ration bar that seemed to require an excessive amount of chewing. He wasn’t hungry. His talk with Jondo had seen to that. But he knew he would need the energy later, and he didn’t want to carry the food weight. Plus, he wasn’t even sure of the logistics of eating in the storm without getting a mouthful of sand.

Jondo handed him the holomap projector. Kanan attached the vambrace to his forearm, testing the display. The canyon topography lit up, and he rotated it around studying it. A quick glance showed that the path Jondo had selected was the shortest. He committed the first few segments of the route to memory.

“It won’t work as well with all the sand in the air, so you’ll need to shield it from the worst of the wind. I had more success by keeping it at a smaller size, but then you’ll need to zoom in to see the details,” Jondo explained.

Kanan sighed, this wouldn’t be easy. Getting lost was the most obvious danger, but the winds could be deadly too. Knock him down, causing injury. Disorient him. Dehydrate him. Make every step feel like he was on a planet with excessive G’s and causing crushing fatigue. Holding anything would be nearly impossible. So accessing his bags or securing the power cells would be challenging.  Assuming, of course, they hadn’t, despite their weight, been blown away already. The winds had lessened since this morning, but Jondo was correct. The scans were showing that this was a temporary break in the storm, not the end of it.

“Here, take this.” Jondo handed him a trooper helmet.

Kanan scowled, eyeing it before reaching out to take it. The comlink it contained was a good enough reason to use it. But the eye protection and the air filtration could be life savers.

“I’ve swapped out the power source with a fresh one, synced our comlinks, replaced the filters and tested it out. It should hold up despite its age,” Jondo said.

“Yeah, thanks a lot,” Kanan muttered. Despite realizing the practicality of the armor, he couldn’t believe he was going to wear a clone helmet even as he dropped it on. He shook his head from side to side, testing the fit.

Jondo walked with him to the front blast doors, activating them with the portable power cell. They slowly screeched open. The sounds of the storm had lessened from howl to a dull roar, but Jondo still needed to shout to be heard.  

“Check in periodically,” he said tapping his head, which Kanan took to mean _“use your comlink, you idiot.”_

Kanan nodded. “Tell Hera I’ll be back soon,” he shouted in response, his voice distorted by the helmet. And then he stepped out into the canyon, staggering as he adjusted to the constant push of the wind.


	8. Visions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated E for explicit angsty sex. If you want to skip, stop reading where Hera kisses Kana back then go the end notes to get the gist of what you missed.
> 
> Also no beta reader for this chapter. Please pass on any typos, redundant/missing words, and similar ilk for virtual hugs and real gratitude.

Hera ran her tongue over her teeth as she studied the data. Eleven hours of sleep had helped her exhaustion but left her with some very fuzzy teeth, and no matter how many cups of caf she had, she couldn’t shake the lingering sour taste the pain medicine has caused.

She had woken up hopeful. Hopeful that they were gathering data on the Empire’s activities. And they were. The data was streaming in. But once she realized Kanan was gone and Jondo had explained where and why, the anger had set in. Anger that they hadn’t woken her. Anger that they had taken action without her. Anger over coddling her due to her injury.

But that had been hours ago. 

_ Now _ ? Now, she was just worried. Worried with a bad case of the jitters and a nasty taste in her mouth. 

She sat at a mess hall table. The table gave her enough space to spread out the datapads she was shifting back and forth between. She wasn’t familiar with the Grand Army of the Republic designs and found it easier to use multiple ones. She requisitioned several that still had a charge. The screens were her only source of illumination as all other nonessential power had already been cut by the time she had woken up to a chilly station. 

Hera squinted at a set of data. Last night, while she slept, there had been a flurry of communication between a station orbiting Nopsin and the gas giant Taloraan, followed by a long stretch of silence.  _  What could it mean?  _

She imagined a time when this nascent rebellion would coalesce into something more organized. Organized enough to have the resources to retain an actual analyst. Someone who had the expertise and dedication to uncover the implications for this kind of intel. 

In the meantime, she would do the best she could with her rebel cell of one and a half beings. It was a half given that Kanan’s involvement was somewhat iffy. If she counted Chopper, maybe she could round up to two. She suspected Chopper would be a big help in processing this data when she got back to  _ The Ghost _ , but he was still an astromech. Mechanical systems were his strong point, not analysis or number crunching. If she could make a wish list of skill sets to ever add to the crew, someone who was a whiz with data and slicing was up there. Hera's self-taught skills were lacking. Passion only got you so far. 

She stared at the datapad in her hand without seeing the aurebesh, before sighing and picking up the next one. She stared at that one for a bit before switching back to the first, using her off hand. It hurt less. But she suspected it wasn’t the pain that was making her restless at the moment. 

Jondo said Kanan had left six hours ago, during the eye, but the storm had returned by the time she woke.  Once she finished unleashing her anger on Jondo, she had checked in with Kanan on the comlink. The roar of the wind had made it hard to make out what he said. 

“...FINE...AT ROCKSL...GETTIN...SEE YOU…” 

Despite shouting the whole time, his words had been enough to ease her concern. She now resisted the urge to check in yet again, not wanting to distract him from getting back safely. 

Her knee bounced under the table as she wondered when she should start truly worrying. She placed the datapad down yet again, sighing. The wind would be in his face if he were heading back now.   _ How much time would that add to the return trip? _

Hera jumped when Jondo placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry,” he said.

She leaned back from her stool, bracing her good arm on the table, as she considered him. “It’s fine. Just... concentrating.”

“You’re concerned.” 

She shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. “How’s the power situation look?”

Jondo’s face shifted from polite interest to a grim worry. He slid into the seat across the table from Hera. “It’s going to be close. We could try to make a copy of the data on a cube instead of relying on a transmission upload to your ship. In case it goes down before Kanan gets back.” 

Hera shook her head as she spoke. “The data is too large to fit even on a cube. And I doubt we have time. No. Either we’ll get power in time, or we’ll lose some data. Then we’ll just need to stay longer to get a larger sample.”

Jondo grunted.

Hera wanted to give him something positive to work with. “But the data is good,” she said leaning forward in excitement. “Like ridiculously good. Check this out. In the last twelve hours, there have been spikes in pilot to controller chatter in Gradze Prime.” 

At Jondo’s questioning look she clarified. “You know the procedures the Empire follows when ships take off? It follows a basic protocol.  Despite not knowing what they are saying we can search for patterns that would fit the protocol. For example, requesting clearance, checking callsigns, or here,” she pointed to a recurring pattern made up of six digits in the aurebesh scrolling quickly past,  “this is what a transponder signal code looks like. But this back-and-forth is so regular - every 4-1/2 minutes in this case - as to suggest a fleet deployment."

"The Empire is orderly about getting one, two...” Hera hummed as she added up the remaining lines “...twenty, no, twenty-one ships. Getting a squadron’s worth into orbit takes a coordinated effort. So, yeah, that tells us something about what’s going on in that system.”

Jondo sat back as he ran his fingers down his chin. “Knowing there is or was a fleet originating from Gradze is telling. I don’t know of any shipbuilding yards there, so it had to have been deployed earlier. But why? I had been considering taking a job for a group that needs a regular run there. I’ll need to look carefully to see if it’s worth doing. Or at the very least increase my price before committing to a longer term arrangement.”

Hera nodded. “I realize that fleet could be long gone by now. That particular detail may have no bearing on your operations, but looking at a whole weeks worth of data should give us both what we want to know."

“For awhile at least.” He smiled.

“Yeah, I just wish we could keep the station running permanently.” She picked at the sleeve of her shirt. While poking around the barracks earlier, she had found some clone trooper clothing and had opted to wear one of the black shirts so she could toss her torn and scorched one. The shirt tended to gape open at the neck, where she had cut a slit to pull it over her lekku. But it didn’t cling to her bandaged arm, and there was no sand in it, so she wasn’t about to complain. 

Jondo shook his head. “When the station was operational the GAR had a squad or two manning it. Granted that was mainly for defense in case of a Confederate attack, but a skeleton crew would still need to consist of several individuals. Does your rebellion have those sorts of resources?” He gave her a measured look.

Hera pursed her lips. “I don’t.” She paused as if thinking then she let out her breath. “And I don’t know who does. At least not yet.” 

A smile flitted across Jondo’s lips at her admission.

A thought made Hera lean forward, and she searched Jondo’s face.  Hera hadn’t been here to do recruiting, but she would never say no to any opportunity to grow the rebellion. 

“How about you? You seem to have no love of the Empire. We could use your help. And it doesn’t have to be this listening station.  There is a place for you to make a difference.” He shifted in his seat at her words, but she pressed on, a hint of urgency seeping into her tone. “We need people like you. I can see you see the injustice. And you have the skills. Will you consider it?” 

She gripped Jondo’s arm, searching for any sign that her speech might have made a difference. He finally met her eyes and held them for a long moment. The light of the datapad cast long shadows on his face, as he weighed her words.  

A loud thud made them jump. Kanan stood in the doorway, a bundle at his feet. 

“Power packs for your rebellion,” he said, his voice distorted by his helmet. 

He dropped the second pack next to the first before shrugging off the trooper helmet, looking like he had been dipped in a vat of rust. His head, despite the sweat plastering his hair to his face, was comically clean compared to the rest of his body.

Hera’s shoulders slumped forward in relief at the sound of his voice, a smile playing at her lips as she rose to greet him.

“You made it!”

Kanan made no move to return her embrace. She could sense his fatigue in his posture, in the way his head dipped, the slow way he blinked, the slack lines of his face. But she also noticed that his eyes didn’t leave Jondo. Hera frowned, her solace at his safe return warring with the worry she felt at the tension she sensed in Kanan.   
  


* * *

Kanan had sand in his underwear. Maybe that was why he was irritable. Or maybe he was irritable because his problems were like sand. Individually not so bad, but collectively a nightmare that could scour rocks to nothing.

He stood in the barracks’ refresher, making little dust piles as he stripped. He had been carrying a shocking quantity of the moon around with him, and the piles were swirling into miniature drifts when he shook his clothes out. He used a rag to scrub the worst of the grime off himself, turning the water in the sink basin a cloudy pink. 

Upon returning from the storm, he had drunk half the station dry and downed a day's worth of rations. Only then had Kanan felt civil again. Hera’s arm made it difficult for her to install the backup power supply, so Kanan and Jondo had done the work. He tried not to take his frustrations out on the man. Even if the Devaronian had been more friendly with Hera than he liked, Kanan knew Jondo wasn’t his enemy. 

At least the rational part of his mind knew this.

The swapping had taken longer than it should have and he was glad no one was in the mood to talk. Unnecessary social interactions might have snapped Kanan’s already frayed nerves.  The power supplies hadn’t been compatible with the station’s wiring, so some creative problem solving had been necessary. He and Jondo figured out a solution eventually. And Kanan's gamble to venture out in the storm had paid off. The data should continue to stream to  _ The Ghost  _ even after they left - until the packs died in a week or so.

Now in the refresher, Kanan wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a sleep cycle or two behind him. But the shower would have to wait until the were back on  _ The Ghost _ . The current plan was to leave the outpost in the morning. Hera had briefly powered up the outpost's sensors, so they were able to tell that the storm was abating. As much as he loathed this place he wasn’t quite ready to venture out into a storm again anytime soon.  _ No, rest first. _

He had debated digging around for some spare clone clothing before deciding he wasn’t that desperate. Wearing the helmet into the storm had been one thing, but seeing Hera in the trooper shirt had made him far more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. He eyed his filthy clothes with disdain, goosebumps spreading over his bare skin, before grudgingly pulling his pants on. 

The climate control had returned to its baseline of quite chilly, but he would be under the covers shortly. He rolled his armor up in his remaining clothes and tucked the bundle under his arm. Heading back to the barracks, he grabbed his boots, pausing to brush his bare feet against his calves to remove the sand clinging to them. Kanan stopped short of his bunk when he saw Hera reclined on it, propped up on her elbows. 

She had removed her cap and goggles in preparation for sleep, but it was her lack of a shirt that made Kanan’s eyes widen. She was dressed from the waist down. Her flight pants cinched with a belt. Her boots still on. But from the waist up she wore only a bra - stark white against her skin. The black top she had had on earlier lay next to her on the bed. 

One corner of her mouth lifted at his expression, but her voice was neutral as she asked, “Give me a hand?” 

He froze, trying to process the request. 

Hera jerked her head towards her wounded arm. “To change my bandage?”

Kanan’s shoulders relaxed in sudden understanding, and he tore his eyes away. “Oh, sure," he said, clearing his throat. 

He placed the clothes on his bunk and grabbed the supplies. Sinking onto the bed next to her, he cocked his head to the side to avoid banging it on the upper bunk. The bacta patch slipped from his fingers twice before he managed to tear open the packaging. He felt self-conscious sitting next to a half-dressed Hera. It made him rethink his own choice to remain shirtless.  

The gentle rise and fall of Hera’s breasts teased at the corner of his vision as he struggled to focus on the bandage. Gently gripping the smooth skin at her elbow, he moved to run the scissors under the edge of the dressing, when his mind finally registered a detail it had missed earlier when he had been distracted by the faint throb of her pulse at the base of her neck.

“This looks different than when I wrapped it. You changed it?”

She nodded, her lek slid off her shoulder with the motion. “Earlier while you were out.”

“Why do you need my help if you have medical droid skills?” He teased.

She tilted her head sideways so her lek wouldn’t get in Kanan’s way, baring her neck further in the process. He felt something clench in his chest.

“One handed? I don’t think I could manage that. Jondo did it for me.” 

Kanan’s hand stilled. An image flashed through his mind. Hera looking the way she did now. Jondo holding her arm. Kanan out in the storm. He clenched his jaw at the thought and made a concerted effort to cut slowly through the bandages.

The patch still held some bacta, but it was drying out and needed to be removed before it adhered to the wound. Kanan gently lifted it, revealing the angry slash. Despite the medicinal properties of the bacta, the wound was swollen and at it’s ugliest in the healing process - pink and raw against the green of Hera’s skin. He centered a new patch over it and began to wrap the arm again. Snug enough to secure it, but not so tight that it constricted blood flow. He secured the ends and then paused to study his work. Something about the wound seemed familiar and tugged at a memory. He frowned when he felt an echo of pain on his arm.

Then without effort on his part, Kanan felt his body open to the Force.

He stiffened at the unprompted action and reflexively pushed at it. But even as he tried to quell it, the pressure inside of him grew. So did his panic.

“No, no, no...NO!” Hera jumped at his outburst, but he ignored her as he focused on the sensations within.

The feeling was threatening to possess him, and Kanan jumped to his feet to get away, slamming his skull on the top bunk. Wincing, he released the last of his resistance to the Force.

It rushed in, infusing every cell in Kanan’s body. 

Never had he been so completely consumed by it. It was not unlike an orgasm - a complete release. To exist in a moment without time. To be rendered speechless. He hadn’t tapped into it, reached for it, or touched it. But he was drowning in it, the strength of it pervading his every fiber. And he was helpless. 

Its power was beautiful.  

And painful.

He gasped, dropping the bandages as the hint of discomfort flared into a searing pain. The sight of Hera’s wound had triggered a sympathetic feeling in his arm. A burning ache across the base of his deltoid. With the pain, and just as unbidden, came a memory. A recollection of something that had yet to happen. 

Like a temporal hiccup, Kanan saw a red blade of a saber swinging to connect with the very spot that was already troubling him. The blow contained such malevolence as if to crush his soul along with his body. The wielder was a masked man all in black - exuding so much Darkness to taint the air around him. And it was cold. So, so cold. In the odd way of dreams, Kanan knew he been engaged in a fight with this man but it was only at the moment of contact that he realized he was facing a Sith Lord. He had never encountered one before. Yet, he was certain of this fact now. His pain was amplified with this knowledge, and he found himself crumpling in…

… and turning inside out until the Sith Lord was gone and he was fighting a boy. A boy with hair so black that it appeared blue. Hair that would fall into his eyes with every swing of his lightsaber. A boy with one foot out of childhood.  Their duel was a rapid-fire series of impressions.  Blades crackling as they passed through a quick succession of beats.  A repartee of words. A moment of levity undercut by urgency. The moment struck him as part child's play, part act of desperation. He was clinging to a painful crushing hope. And love, so much love. The pain in his arm had vanished, but a fear born of hope and love lodged in his throat…

… and blurred into another moment. A tall gray man - a Pau’an - held a double bladed red saber in front of him. Spinning, turning, advancing. Kanan was hopelessly outmatched, two blue lightsabers clutched in each hand. But somehow even the fear dissipated in the face of death, leaving only a resolute certainty…

… and he was back at the Temple. In an unfamiliar dojo where a Temple Guard was sparring with him. No. Not dueling. This wasn’t training. It was a fight of life and death, but Kanan wasn’t certain that it was his life he was fighting for. His every swing was precise and accurate. He had never fought with more skill than at this moment. And it wasn’t enough because it would never be enough. He would never be able to protect the one he loved.  Certainty dissolved into acceptance. He bowed his head, sprawled on the floor, waiting to receive the killing blow…

But the blow never came. Kanan blinked. Raising his head, he saw the familiar outline of Hera in the half-light of the barracks. He was sitting on the floor, his chest heaving. His hand clutched his hip, seeking the reassurance of a weapon that he hadn’t worn in years. Kanan scrubbed his face, and his hand came away wet, whether, from exertion or tears, he didn’t know. 

As the Force slipped from Kanan’s body, he slumped forward, exhausted. It left as quickly as it arrived and with just as much control from him.

“Kanan?” Hera’s voice was thick with fear. 

He lifted his head, eyes wide, scanning the room as he oriented himself. She was staring, lips parted, frozen in place. When his eyes touched hers, she snapped out of her fear and moved to kneel next to him.

“Are you ok?” she asked, tentatively touching his bare shoulder.

“A vision,” he whispered, not trusting his voice with anything louder. 

“Vision?”

At her look of confusion, he frowned, trying to remember how to speak. “The Force…” He took a deep breath before continuing, “can show wielders things. Possibilities. Maybe’s. But it’s all so jumbled.”

“What..." She swallowed before pressing on, "did you see?”

Kanan pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to shake the lingering feeling of the Force. He could still feel the residual bits of its beauty, made all the more wretched by the unrelenting, hopelessness that had accompanied it. 

He turned to her, shaking his head slowly. His face was frozen into a hard frown to stifle the emotions that threatened to emerge. Hera must have understood because she opened her arms and he fell into them. Small tremors racked his body as he clung to her. 

He struggled to remember. Although the details were dissipating, the emotions they evoked remained. The suffocating menace of the Dark Side. So many lightsabers. Always in conflict. A painful clinging to hope. And resignation. 

He had had visions before, when he was younger and still a Jedi. But not once since his path had veered into a radically different direction. They had always seemed more like waking dreams. Fleeting impressions that he forgot as soon as the Force slipped away. This one had been different - a tidal wave of images, each one a profusion of details. But, even now, he squinted with the effort of holding onto something as slippery as a thought. Every initiate knew that visions could be tricky. They no more told the future than reading clouds could tell you what tomorrow held. Yet they were right often enough that you heeded them. Whatever the specifics of this vision might be about, Kanan heard the message loud and clear. His was a future of conflict. And not just any conflict. 

Jedi conflict. 

He held Hera's shoulders until his breathing evened and his thoughts stopped tripping over each other. He pulled away to look into her face. The dim light from the portable lamp caught the radiant green of her eyes, where unshed tears of concern were threatening to spill. In that moment his focus seized on her beauty, banishing all other thoughts. His fingers reached up to trace the curve of her cheek.

It gave him the perspective he needed. 

“Hera, I ... “ 

Kanan knew what needed to be done. He was as certain of it as he had been about anything he had known. But he was still at a loss for words.

Which is why he kissed her hard. 

He kissed her to erase the memory of flashing red blades.  He kissed her because it was the middle of a mission.  He kissed her even as she stiffened, not stopping when his mouth was rough and his hand firm on her jaw.   He kissed her to distract himself from the growing, certain dread in his gut, as his fingers gripped the fabric of her flight pants, yanking her towards him.

And he kissed her as she softened, her hand drifting up to tangle in his hair, her lips parting for the briefest of seconds. And he felt the exact moment when she thought better of it. 

“Kanan?”  She pulled away, confusion evident in her voice. Her breath matched his own, coming in short, irregular gasps.

She wanted answers. 

And Kanan didn’t want to give them. Didn’t want to think about it. 

“Tell me to stop.” His voice was ragged as he rested his forehead against hers.  _ Could she hear the pleading in it?  _

A flicker of anger crossed her face as she searched his eyes.  His hand was still curled tight in the fabric of her pants. He waited, holding his breath. Would she sense his pain and take pity on him? Or be alarmed and retreat? 

Kanan wasn’t sure which response he wanted. 

When her eyes dropped to his lips, he knew. 

It wasn’t the one he was hoping for.

Her lips brushed his, warm and soft. It was gentle, not the fierce kiss he had just given her. She was trying to comfort him. Kanan knew he should stop. He didn’t want to hurt her, but his pain didn’t seem to care. He met her tentative overture and increased the urgency. His own self-loathing grappled with desperation as he pressed into her mouth. If she wouldn’t say no, how could he? Not in the face of her kisses. 

He loved her. 

And he was ripping his heart out.

But that didn’t stop him from pulling her onto his lap. His hands slid across her back and up to grip the base of her lekku. Their kiss deepened, teeth clashing, hard and urgent, in a way they had never done before. This was not a moment of lip nibbles with sweet sweeps of tongues. It was hard sucking, a gasping wetness, a searing heat igniting their body. 

The brief flicker of restraint was gone and with it his resolve to face the truth. Instead, Kanan wanted to fuck the pain out, even knowing it would bring heartache. Knowing it never worked. 

His intensity must have been infectious because kiss for tongue-probing-kiss she matched him with equal fervor. The sharp prick of her fingernails breaking the skin in his shoulder brought a cock twitching distraction of pain. Her mouth broke off to trail down his jaw, half suckling, half biting, surely leaving marks.

His hands fell to the clasp of her bra, briefly fumbling with it before it released for him.  He slid a hand under it to grope at her naked breast, kneading it in his bare palm and rolling a nipple between his fingers, eliciting a sound of pleasure from her. Every tiny gasp and moan she uttered fed into his emotional feedback loop. The loop that was caught up in escaping pain and amplifying his desire for her. 

Hera startled him with a shove to his chest. He fell back against the bunk, his eyes wide, and she shrugged her bra off of delicate shoulders.  She leaned back on one arm, driving her crotch into him while giving him better access to her breasts. With her head thrown back and back arched, the tips of her lekku caressed his legs sending a shiver up his spine. 

"Hera," Kanan groaned, more animalistic vocalization than sentient speech.  He lunged for her, grabbing her roughly behind her lower back jerking her hips hard against his.

She responded with a throaty hum. It was still reverberating through his entire being, when she wound fingers into his hair, eye-wateringly tight, pulling him to her. The kisses he trailed down her chest were more teeth and tongue than lips. His mouth was on her nipple, and he sucked it hard between barely parted teeth. Only when she hissed in pain did he back off, but his mouth didn't leave her skin as he fumbled with her belt. 

“Let me,” she said standing. 

She kicked her boots off, her pistol clattered across the floor, ignored. She shimmied her hips enough to slide her pants off. Kanan’s eyes were possessive and never left her body, even as he stood, working his belt and zipper to pull his cock free.  Hera hooked her thumbs on the edges of her underwear, yanking it to her calves. She presented a moan-inducing display of her backside to him in the process.  Kanan embraced her from behind, one hand cupping a breast, the other dipping between her legs, as his erection pressed into her ass.

“Yes...” Hera sighed. Her voice, scarcely louder than her breath, was laden with desire and something... else.

Kanan froze. There was a softness there that made him recoil. It was an emotional caress in a moment of physical intensity. For a brief moment compassion threatened to subdue passion. He  _ heard  _ the tenderness in her voice. And he recognized it. He knew it. But he also knew what he needed to do. 

There were kinder, more skillful ways to break someone’s heart. If Kanan was a better man, he might have done those things. 

Tightening his hold on Hera, he took a step back to the edge of the bunk, pulling her with him to sit on his lap. Her lekku filled his vision, and her naked back was warm against his bare chest. She spread her legs to straddle him, balancing on tiptoe. Kanan's calloused fingers pressed into the soft skin of her collarbone, steadying her, as his other hand guided himself into her. 

She stiffened. “Too fast.”  

He paused, the desire to keep thrusting growing as did his fear of the stillness.  Hera’s hand dropped between their legs to caress herself and to cup his testicles, making them both moan.

When anticipation got the best of Kanan, he pulled out and slid into her again. One slow stroke spread her wetness where it needed to be. She relaxed into his crushing embrace, cupping a hand on the back of his head to stabilize herself. Her shoulder grazed his cheek with each movement, and he couldn't help but press his teeth into the muscle there. The leverage he had by gripping her neck insured their coupling was hard and their tempo was rapid, as he thrust into her…

... without a condom.

"Kanan," she murmured. Her utterance of his name matched his panting so that he barely registered it.

"Kanan!" The concern rising in her voice was evident now. Her insistence made it’s way through his animal mind even as he found himself approaching the brink.

“Kri-” He cut off his curse to roll with her onto the bunk, pressing her face down onto the blankets beneath him. 

With a sharp intake of breath, Kanan gave one last thrust before withdrawing. He gripped his erection, slick with her desire. After several hard strokes, he ejaculated, covering Hera’s back with his semen. His groan of release was more anguish than elation.

He lay heavily on her. Her naked legs tangled with his clothed ones. A lek draped over his face. A layer of sweat and cum between them. Hera hadn’t moved under him. The silence was loud, broken only by their strained breathing. 

His emotional pain had been matched only by his lust. As the afterglow faded he was left with only disgust.  Somehow Kanan knew they would come to this point. He hadn’t known how it would play out, but he wasn’t surprised.

When Kanan's heart rate slowed, he rolled away. Facing the underside of the bunk, a pinup girl gazed accusingly down at him and he averted his eyes. Hera remained belly down but turned her head to study him. The soft light of the dimmed room illuminated her furrowed brows. Her bewilderment cut deep, and he welcomed the pain.

Her look warranted a response. He opened and closed his mouth several times before stammering, "I'm sorry."

Kanan wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. Sex during a mission? Roughness? Using her? Cutting it close with no protection? 

All of it, he supposed.

She shook her head and buried her face in the bunk.

Kanan stood, zipped his fly, buckled his belt, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A summary if you skipped the sex scene: Kanan and Hera have rough sex, although by the end it becomes apparent to everyone that Kanan was using Hera for his own emotional/physical needs and to push her away.


	9. Breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter rating is Teen for drinking.
> 
> No Beta. Virtual hugs/actual gratitude for pointing out typos and other minor issues.

Hera shoved the slicing equipment into the kit more roughly than she intended, wincing when she heard the sharp ping of the arc welder snapping. Cursing under her breath, she dropped the bag with a huff onto the counter in the barracks. The metallic clank of the loose pieces was unmistakable. She leaned heavily on the durasteel surface, pursing her lips.

The storm had abated sometime in the middle of the night. Sometime after Kanan had his freak out and sex had gone very wrong between them. It was time to move out, yet Hera was struggling with moving on. She had already reviewed the intel logs, scrubbed the worst of the dirt off her skin in shiver-inducing water, had three cups of reconstituted caf from a packet, and checked the weather scans. Now, she was gathering and regathering their supplies scattered throughout the station.

She had managed to avoid running into Kanan while doing this. Or he had avoided her. Not seeing him was effective at keeping her on task. Although breaking the tip off the arc welder suggested her emotions might be coming to a head.  

Thinking of the look in his eyes last night wasn’t helping either. She had kissed and held him and made love to him until... things turned. It had been comfort. It was supposed to make things better.  Instead, she was getting pulled into whatever was going on with him. Mentally and physically.

Dumping the toolkit on the countertop had sent a cloud of dust airborne. Now the stale smell of it made her nose wrinkle and she stifled a sneeze. While her brain was spinning stories, her eye caught a mundane detail. The counter held little bits of flimsi, detritus from a hastily abandoned outpost. They were all dust covered, except for the top piece.

Her brows crinkled as she picked it up, considering it. Turning it over, revealed a dust covered pin-up girl, a Twi’lek posing for some long gone soldier. As a pilot, Hera had seen her fair share of pretty girls in poses from chaste to pornographic. The subject matter was chosen to appeal to straight men, and posting it in cockpits or hangers signaled to others the maleness of the space. The fetishization of Twi'lek women was a sore spot for her. Outwardly, she ignored the territorial posturing that came with working with flyboys. Inwardly, she wondered how much separated her from some idealized woman in their minds.

Frowning her eyes darted to the wall, spotting the space it had recently occupied, where the revealed adhesive was yellow and peeling. Hera fingered the corner. Judging by the dust patterns, Kanan must have pulled it down. But why? Had he taken it up upon himself to protect her from seeing the reminders of female objectification? Was it a considerate action or presumptuous one?

Her vision narrowed thinking of his hypocrisy. He could play the thoughtful human male by taking down the sexist, speciest imagery. But then last night? He used her body to meet his physical and emotional needs.

Hera’s lip quivered for a moment. As she struggled to regain control, her face contorted into the hard lines of a frown. Taking deep breaths through her nose, she relaxed her fingers, releasing the crumpled flimsi before shifting her attention to her arm. Digging her nails into the skin of her elbow provided a distracting counterpoint to the throbbing of the wound.  Her mental struggle was aggravated by her physical pain.  

Spotting the medkit, Hera rummaged through it, strewing spare bacta patches across the counter and onto the floor before she found the pain medicine. She held a single dose in her gloved palm for a long moment, before closing her eyes. The pain was still bearable. She tucked it into a pocket just in case.

All of this was hard. But there was time. Hera needed to get her thoughts and emotions straight, and she needed to talk to Kanan. But for now, she would pack so they could leave.  

With a sigh, Hera opened the toolkit bag. Picking out the broken bits of the arc welder, she secured them in place to prevent further damage. Only the head was broken, and that piece was easy to replace.  Tugging at the corners, she settled everything in the bag before going over her list. She tapped items off on her fingers until she was confident nothing was missing.

Her eyes scanned the barracks one last time as she turned to leave. The blankets on her bed were crumpled. Kanan’s were smooth, but the bundle of clothing he had left on it last night was gone. He must have come back at some point, even if he hadn't slept in it.

She shook her head, wondering what he'd been thinking?

What had _she_ been thinking?

The last time - the time on _The Phantom_ \- that was Kanan being playful. Testing to see how much he could get away with but not being disrespectful. But last night was a full on protest against her boundaries. He was reckless both with her body and her feelings.

He had even asked for permission! This was what upset Hera the most. She was angry at herself for not standing up in the face of his emotional storm. And she still didn’t even understand what the vision was about.  

They needed to talk. Until then...

She sighed, grabbed the portable light source and bags, and headed out.

 

* * *

 

 

The hike out should have been easier than the one in, mainly because Hera’s party didn’t get split up by bounty hunters, with its nerve-wracking chase. There was also less to carry since they had left a sizeable chunk of gear at the station. Nor did they have to deal with a sandstorm. The air was crisp and clear. The morning light was even more pink than normal, although Hera wasn’t sure how that was even possible, giving everything a warm, dreamlike glow. No, the hike out felt longer because of the tension between her and Kanan.

They exchanged few words this morning. Kanan answered her questions with the barest of responses. Hera clenched her jaw with every terse reply. An open-ended inquiry was met with a ducked head or shrugged shoulders.

Kanan lead the way for the first bit. He had been over this ground many times now, what with retrieving the power packs in the storm, and then when the bounty hunter had captured him. The last time, Hera had been searching for evidence and tracks in pursuit of the bounty hunter. Jondo had had his topo maps. Neither had been paying attention to local landmarks then.

Without the need for consultations on their location, they made good time, and Kanan set a brisk pace. Hera felt relief that there was little time for talk, awkward or otherwise. She found herself puzzling over some of the data they had captured last night, in an attempt at distracting herself, but her eyes kept returning to the back of the man in front of her. Kanan had on his spare shirt - the one Jondo had sliced the arm off of for use as a bandage. He now appeared to be wearing a vest over his black undershirt. One sleeve gone for ease of movement with his armor, the other gone for medical reasons. In ordinary circumstances, the look would have made her lips twitch in amusement.

But not today.

Kanan pulled up short. A wind tattered piece of fabric snagged on a rock had caught his eye, and he yanked it down to inspect it.

“Lirri’s scarf,” he murmured, fingering it. Catching Hera’s arched eyebrow, he elaborated. “The bounty hunter.”

“You think she came this way after you lost her?" Hera asked.

“Or the wind might have simply blown it here,” Jondo said.

“She might still be out there,” Hera speculated.

Kanan was silent for a moment before he started hiking again, leaving the scarf where he had found it. “What are the odds of her surviving the storm, as unprepared as she was?”

They were almost to the bikes and out of the canyons when the skies darkened as Othoa transited in front of the system’s sun. Hera was squinting through her fingers at the celestial event when Kanan stopped; she had to catch herself to keep from stumbling into him.

She murmured, “oh,” upon seeing why.

A crumpled bike lay in their path, wedged at an odd angle between the curving rose colored walls. It appeared to have blown into the canyon from above. Hera had a brief moment of panic that their ride was now jammed into their path. She was already doing mental calculations on how long it would take to walk to town when it dawned on her that it was a swoop, and not the light speeders that they had come in on.

Jondo and Kanan spoke at the same time. “Bounty hunter’s.” "Lirri's."

“Oh,” she said again. Hera hadn’t realized she had been worried about the bounty hunter until she wasn’t. Her shoulders slumped in relief, and she risked a glance at Kanan.

His face remained impassive. There was no sarcasm or snark today. Whatever was going on for him, it went beyond even his usual coping mechanisms. Shaking her head, she wondered how long she could deal with the tension between them.

The bike was low enough to climb over. Kanan went first, his weight pushing the swoop even lower. It made a teeth-aching screech as durasteel grated over stone, before it became too wedged to budge. Hera scrambled over next, placing her feet cautiously on the seat of the bike. One the far side, she leaped down, ignoring the hand Kanan held out.

Their bikes were where they had stashed them, covered in a thick coating of sand that had to be brushed off first. Hera helped Jondo secure their gear to his bike as he wrapped fibercord around it. Kanan started the other bike. It sputtered before settling into a low, familiar whine. When the last of the bags were tightened down, she turned towards Kanan as he straddled the speeder.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Kanan drew back in surprise. “Driving?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “You want to? I assumed that with your arm it would be a long drive.”

He was aloof, but there was a hint of concern in his tone. It was that tenderness that pricked at Hera’s anger. But her wound was complaining from the recent activity that she had put it through. Kanan was right; she wouldn’t last long if she were driving.

“Fine.”

Climbing on the bike behind him, she winced. Her arm wasn’t the only thing that was tender. It wasn’t the first time that vigorous lovemaking had made Hera sore, but it was the first time she felt a pang of regret over it. Reluctantly she rested her hands on his hips. Wrapping herself around Kanan felt something akin to traitorous, but falling off the end of the bike held no appeal either. Gritting her teeth, she settled into the long drive back.

 

* * *

 

As _The Phantom_ 's back hatch hissed open, Hera’s shoulders relaxed infinitesimally.  It wasn't _The Ghost_ or her bunk, but she was as good as home. Stepping aboard, she glanced around the interior with a practiced eye, seeking signs of anything amiss. The only thing of note was the triggered memory of what had last transpired here. Scowling, she jammed a few buttons on the pilot’s console, powering up the ship in preparation for the flight back.

They had parted ways with Jondo at the spaceport entrance, leaving the bikes on the street for him to deal with. A meeting time had been set for a week later, to hand off whatever data had been gathered. Hera suspected the man was eager to be rid of her and Kanan. Force! She was ready to be rid of Kanan and herself.

She waited for each of the status lights to flicker through their start-up cycle, going from coming-online blue to systems-nominal white.  When she was sure none were problematic red, she turned towards the still open hatch. Kanan was placing their gear in neat piles beneath the jump seats. Hera studied him for a long moment, considering what to say next.

A dark mark on his neck caught her eye. Her gaze had been snagging on it all day, and each time she would have to look away, her stomach clenching.

A love bite.

A love bite she had given him.

A reminder that she participated in last night’s lovemaking with equal fervor.

The words were out before she could censor them. “What the kriff is wrong with you?!”

Kanan froze, mid-placement of the last bag, before dropping it with the others. He straightened to face Hera.

She hadn’t meant to start their conversation like that. In fact, she had thought to have this discussion after they were airborne. She had planned to calmly and rationally lay her thoughts out.

About how he kept everything in close and used sex to hide. And when he had his vision - not that she was blaming him for that - he had handled it poorly. How he wasn’t working with her on the parameters of their relationship - so that she wondered if he even cared. Then he had used her body - she admitted sheepishly for wanting it but not that way. And, oh, by the way, was he _trying_ to get her pregnant.

Hera forced her fists to unclench as she waited for his reaction, tucking them in her pockets in an attempt to find some composure. Her fingers snagged on the pill tucked there. Maybe if she had taken it, this conversation would be going differently.

The point of Kanan’s beard twitched as he chewed his lip and his eyes bored into hers. It wasn’t the look of someone who was avoiding a conversation.

“What do you want me to say, Hera?”

Hera blinked. He sounded tired. This was not the voice of someone experiencing the same passionate anger that she was.

“I don’t know.” She began pacing in the tight quarters of _The Phantom_ , weaving back and forth next to the pilot's seat. “I don’t know anything. You're giving me nothing to work with. You fall apart last night, push my boundaries, use - use me - sex -  as a means for… whatever you’re going through. Then you clam up. So, I don’t know what you should say, but you need to stop it!” Her lekku were stiff and her breathing shallow as she paused to glare at him, daring him to cross her.

“Hera, I’m…” he trailed off, looking past her, searching for words.

“You’re what?” she pushed.

“I’m…” He ducked his head and balled his hands into fists, avoiding her gaze but not before she caught the furrowed brows and the pained expression.

She stopped pacing and closed her eyes as she waited for several heartbeats for him to continue. But her impatience got the best of her. “Talk to me!” she snapped, an edge of pleading had crept into her voice. She took a calming breath before continuing, “We need to learn to do this. To communicate.”

_The Phantom_ had never felt as confining as it did at this moment. She only knew how to fix this by talking, and Kanan was giving her nothing to work with. Last night he had asked her - no commanded her - to tell him to stop. But all she had wanted was to erase his pain, to make it all better.

Today, she just wanted him to stop making her hurt.

And Kanan stood there with a love bite on his neck avoiding her pleading eyes. He was staring at something just beyond her, stonily silent, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

As the moment stretched into minutes, Hera found something cracking inside. She made a strangled noise, throwing her hands in the air. “This isn’t working!” she cried.

Something must have shifted in Kanan as he finally responded. “You’re right. It’s not.”

He nodded for a moment, finding his resolve as his face twisted into something sad and fierce. He turned, grabbing a bag.  

“Hera... It’s over.”

“What?” Hera frowned, confused. His voice held sorrow, not the anger she was hoping to hear.

_The conversation was over?_  

“That’s-that’s not what I meant,” she sputtered. “I meant ‘not talking.' That’s what’s not working.”

Kanan finally met her eyes. A sudden coldness settled in her stomach.

He wasn’t talking about the conversation.

“I’m sorry." He turned towards the open hatch, his bag thrown over his shoulder. "I never meant to do this to you. Not like this.”  

 

Hera's hand raised of its own accord, finding the back of the pilot's seat to steady her. She knew she should say something, but no words came out. So she shook her head. She was the speechless one now.

Kanan took a step to go, before pausing as something occurred to him. “My stuff. In the drawer under my bunk.”

His eyes held hers for a long moment to stress the importance of it, but Hera was too panicked to process the meaning.

“Ditch it in deep space. You don’t want to be found with it,” he said then stepped out of _The Phantom._

She finally found her voice, but could only manage a whisper. “That’s not what I meant... that's not what... I meant...”  

He gave no sign that he heard her, continuing to make his way towards the main terminal of the spaceport.  At the hangar door, he looked both ways, chose a direction and then slipped out of her field of vision.

He hadn’t looked back.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, buddy!”

Kanan stared at the Er’kit speaking to him. The man's long ears were quirked up and nose wrinkled in an expectant look.  Kanan blinked until it dawned on him that the bartender had been trying to get his attention.

“You gonna order or what?” the man asked.

“Oh, yeah. Umm, whiskey.” He slid the credits on the counter in front of him, not surprised to see a slight tremor in his hand. “Make it a double.”

He had chosen The Sandstorm Bar in part because it wasn’t the Canyonlands. It skewed closer to seedy than classy, which had the advantage of stretching his credits. Plus it felt familiar, although not quite like home - nothing felt like that except, perhaps, _The Ghost._  The layout was reminiscent of the Asteroid Belt on Gorse, but it was occupied by local dust dwellers instead of miners. But mostly he was here because it was the closest bar to the spaceport. The quickest way to get numb.

Kanan downed the whiskey. He hadn’t had a drink since the Belt, but he wasn’t in the mood to savor it. If it burned going down, he didn’t notice. Nor could he tell if it was top shelf or engine cleaner. The bartender might have given him water for all he knew.

Walking out on her hadn’t been his plan. He didn’t have a plan. He never had a plan. But he did have lots of practice with walking away.

Just not with someone he was in love with.

All he knew was what the vision had shown him and that she, for her own safety, for his sanity, should have no part in that. He had extricated himself over the course of the last day in the least skillful way possible, and she deserved far better than that.

But he had done it.  And now he had to figure out how to get on with the business of being alive. This was hard to do when every bone in his body told him to turn around and run back to Hera.  To apologize. To do whatever he could to get back in her good graces.

Then he would recall the flash of a red blade.

He held his head in his hand, his fingers massaging his temples, as he waited for the alcohol to anesthetize his pain. He nodded at the bartender for another.

Having the Force possess him had been awful, but what the vision had revealed was far worse. He had given up on being a Jedi. Washed his hands clean of his past. But if there were any truth to the revelations, Kanan would someday take part in matters that should be the domain of ghosts.  The specifics were already fading, and he cursed the Force. If he had details, he could try to rationalize his way out of this pain.  

All that remained was the inevitability that he would forever be a Jedi.

Kanan squinted at the empty glass, not remembering when he had consumed it. He nudged it towards the bartender. He felt something loosen in his chest and realized he could no longer feel his heart thudding.

The next drink he ordered was an ale. Kanan had no patience for sipping it though and drank it in big gulps. His thoughts were starting to slow, but each one still felt like a punch to the stomach.  That’s when the self-loathing set in.

Reminders of last night filtered into his consciousness. Their lovemaking. No, he couldn’t call it that. He had used her. Used her to avoid the pain. Used her to make the break. He hadn't slept after leaving her in the barracks, with a wounded look on her face and his cum on her back. He had wandered the outpost until he had finally passed out on a table in the kitchen, getting a few fitful hours of sleep.

She had wanted to talk today, but he couldn’t give that to her. If she started talking she would talk him down. And he needed to leave her. To protect her. To protect everything she was trying to do. She had a way of convincing him that everything could be ok. But it couldn’t. It wouldn’t. The Force had made that clear.

So he kept his distance. Every encounter with her had killed a part of himself. Her anger was palpable, and he had been on the edge of caving in and begging for forgiveness several times. He knew he was being a jerk, but the only control he could muster was to double down.

It was only after the fourth drink that Kanan started noticing his environment. An Aqualish sat on one side. He was glad the man didn’t want to talk. He wasn’t sure he was capable of that. Ever again? He ducked his head before he inadvertently made eye contact.  Fingering the credits in his pocket, he was street savvy enough to not be overt about it. He was trying to do the calculations on how much longer they would last, but he was starting to have doubts about his addition.

In general, Kanan wasn’t one for plans.  He had seat-of-the-moment strategies. He had habitual patterns of behaviors he could fall back on. So he had no intention of figuring out his course of action at this moment beyond how many more drinks he could buy. He would worry about his options later. Tonight he would drink and avoid the voices. Voices urging him to turn right around and find her, to tell her he was an idiot, that he was so sorry. Other voices, the more rational ones, hissed at him, asking if he wanted to drag her down with him.

He switched back to whiskey on his fifth drink. The beer was taking too long. Hard liquor was more efficient.  At this point, stringing thoughts together took some concentration. He kept tripping over unbidden memories that would bubble up.

How she looked on _The Ardor_ . Nude, her lekku spilling onto the bed, her arms open. Waiting and vulnerable for him. The soft sighs she made when he moved in her. Or on _The Ghost_ , in control in the pilot's seat. The command evident in the timbre of her voice. A wry grin on her lips at his lame attempts to get her to laugh. Her green eyes meeting his in silent understanding.

After the sixth drink, things got a bit fuzzy, but not so fuzzy he couldn’t order a seventh.

Kanan needed to leave her, but he hadn't had nearly enough to drink. She was still right there with him in his every thought.

  



	10. Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter rated G or maybe T, depending on your feelings about drinking and canon typical violence.
> 
> No beta. Virtual hugs/actual gratitude for typos or other errors of that ilk (unless I know you in real life, then you get a real hug.)

Hera wasn’t sure how long she had been staring at the hydrospanner in her hand when Chopper started warbling. Shaking herself, she poked her head into access hatch that led to _The Phantom_ to address the droid waiting at the base of the ladder.

“No, Kanan would not be helpful now.”

She was wedged into one of _The Ghost_ _’s_ compartments, just off the access hatch, and making slow progress on a maintenance job. It was a tight squeeze. The space was far too narrow for the astromech to help. Kanan had once tried it and ended up getting stuck. Hera had to dismantle another hatch cover to disentangle him. The VCX series were superb ships, but even they had their idiosyncrasies. She sometimes wondered if the designer had been an Ugnaught.

“Bwaaaha-mwap?”

Focusing on the set of fuel valves to the ship’s second engines, she pressed her lips together and shook her head even though Chopper couldn’t see her. “I told you. He’s not coming back. Time to get used to it just being the two of us again.”

She paused, glancing down at the droid. “Besides, I thought you didn’t like him?”

He waved his arms in the manner that Hera had come to interpret as a shrug. “Mwahha bwaaaa.”

“You know, I do oil baths too.” She wasn’t sure how a droid ended up so hedonistic. “And _I_ taught _him_ how to give them,” she muttered.

“Mwah-wa.”

She snorted.

 _Kanan’s were better_.

Yesterday, or any of the days before that, Chopper’s comment might have sent her into tears. But today she was focusing on moving on. Or at least not wallowing in her sorrow. Or maybe just not crying, she thought even as her lip trembled. The parts in front of her began to blur as she willed her mind to make sense of the jumble in front of her. But it kept returning to Kanan. Chopper was right. Everything was better with Kanan.

Hera jerked in surprise as fuel began to spray everywhere. The valve she was loosening had came undone. She cursed, cranking it down frantically until it stopped. She had forgotten to drain the line before she started working on it. Sighing, she took in the damage. Her clothing had taken the worst of the spray. She wrinkled her nose from the fumes while shifting her feet to avoid the puddles.

As she felt the first tear slide over her cheek, she slammed her hands on the edge of the hatch.

“Chop, get me a damn rag!”

The droid grumbled as he trundled off. Anger always seemed preferable to sorrow, but she would need to make it up to Chopper.

After Kanan had walked out on her, she had holed up in _The Phantom_ for a long time, first in shock. She had sat on the floor, her arms curled around her knees, her lekku around her arms and stared. It never occurred to her to go after him. Why, she didn’t know. She told herself she needed to catch her breath; then she could figure out what was going on. After that somehow she would make it ok again.

When darkness descended, and the stars came out, still Hera sat there, numb and cold, until physical discomfort pressed her to move. To get a drink of water. To find a refresher. To get warm. It was only when _The Phantom_ was airborne, and she switched to autopilot, that she broke down. The tears were gone by the time she docked with _The Ghost_ , leaving only dry, gasping sobs. She staggered to her room, giving a strangled command to Chopper that he had the helm. She fell immediately into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.

The second day she descended into a numb haze, cutting herself off from the sharpest edges of the pain. She wondered when she would be able to think again. The data from the listening station was pouring in, and it would take a lot of time and effort to make sense of it, but she had spent the greater part of an hour, shuffling the data around without seeing it.

Hera gave a brief report to Fulcrum but hadn’t been able to admit that she was now short a crew member. If Fulcrum noticed anything was off, her contact refrained from commenting.

Mostly Hera kept replaying the events of the last several days over in her head, trying to make sense of things. Wondering when it would lose its dreamlike qualities.

She hadn’t seen it coming. Yes, all the warning signs were there. But she thought Kanan cared about her. Cared about her in a way that meant he wouldn’t leave, despite his history demonstrating otherwise. She had taken that for granted. She could tell he loved her and she assumed that was significant.

But he had left too early.

He had left before she had been able to tell him that she loved him too.

She vacillated between thinking it would have made a difference, and, even that wouldn't have made him stay.

Today was the fourth day, and she had given up on staring at datapads, on her feeble attempts at analysis. Using her hands helped. It seemed an ideal time to clean the fuel valves, a routine job that only she could do.

The weather scans for the next week were clear, so she had opted to put _The Ghost_ down on Echea. She had landed in the flatlands outside of town. Close but not too close. Some part of her wondered if Kanan was still here. Or had he already gotten a job crewing for someone else, long gone to some distant corner of the galaxy. If she had needed to get extra power converters in town, would she run into him on the street? If she wandered into the Canyonlands Cantina could she find him and give him a piece of her mind?

Hera muttered under her breath as she loosened the drainage valve. She imagined what she might tell him, uttering expletives with each jerk of her hand on the hydrospanner. The internal comms crackled, making her pause.

“Mahhaaw-mwa-wap!”

Hera froze, not sure she had heard Chopper correctly. _An incoming transmission._

“From Kanan?” she asked incredulously, ducking her head into the hatch to hear better.

Chopper warbled in the affirmative.

For a split second, she wanted to tell Kanan to go to hell. But hearing his voice one more time won out over spite and her heart overrode her brain. “Ok, I’ll take it in my room.”

Unfolding herself from the cramped space, Hera frowned, wondering what it was about. _Was he contacting her to apologize? Or to twist the knife further? Maybe he just wanted to get a change of clothes._

She hissed as her wounded arm grazed the compartment edge. Ignoring the pain, she gripped the outside edges of the ladder to slide down into the common room. Dashing down the hallway, she danced around Chopper as he rolled out of the cockpit to meet her. Stepping into her room, the blue scan lines of the holographic image were already flickering on above her utility table.

“Kanan.” His name was out of her mouth before the image resolved. She knew she shouldn't let the edge of hope creep into her voice.

But it wasn’t him.

“Kanan?” Jondo asked in confusion.

Hera felt the heat rise to her cheeks at her mistake. She funneled it into her anger towards Chopper.

“C1-10P!” Hera’s voice rose as she turned on him. Chopper rolled towards her, waving his arms and chortling. Hera growled as she placed her booted foot on his dome and shoved hard enough to slide him out her door and into Kanan’s with a clang. She slapped a hand on the door control, closing it.

“Hera?” Jondo asked.

“Sorry.” She tugged at her flight suit and grimaced when she realized it was still damp from the fuel spray. “Miscommunication,” she offered by way of explanation.

“Kanan is not with you?”

Hera got the feeling that he wasn’t surprised, only seeking clarification.

“Kanan is… no longer working for me.” Hera was proud of the resolve in her voice, even if she couldn’t meet Jondo’s eyes.

“Hmmm.”

She saw no need to substantiate her comment. The hydrospanner slapped against her palm several times until she realized she was fidgeting. She placed it on the table and waited for several long moments for him to explain why he was contacting her.

“Sorry to hear that,” Jondo said carefully.

She couldn’t say why, but she sensed that the man saw more than he let on. And that made his sincerity all the harder to endure. Risking a glance at him she saw his concern and had to bite her lip as her composure began to slip. She resisted the urge to pick up the tool again.

He cleared his throat awkwardly before he said, “I was checking to see how your progress was going. Anything you needed help with?”

“The data has been pouring in. It appears all good. I haven't been able to do any real analysis being short on crew and in need of a better astromech.” Even as she was saying it, she knew it was a lie. She should have been concentrating on the task at hand. And she couldn’t. _Damn you, Kanan._

“How much longer do you think we have?”

It took a Hera a moment to process his meaning, unsure of both time and objectives in recent days. “We're halfway done, so maybe five to six days before the power cells are completely drained.”

Jondo nodded. “Let’s plan to do a data handoff in five days. I… ”

Hera cocked her head as he trailed off. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, but maybe we should leave Echea sooner rather than later.”

“Alright. We can meet at _The Ghost_ if you want. I’m dirtside now.”

“In town?”

“No, on the flatlands just west of there. I’ll send you the coordinates.”

“Sounds good. Oh, Hera?”

“Yeah?”

“You doing ok?”

Hera paused at the concern in his voice, again, uncertain how she felt about it. “Yeah. I’m fine.” She gave him a wan smile to prove it.

His long pause before signing off suggested he didn’t believe her.

The holoprojector flicked off, leaving her in the dark. A gurgle in her stomach signaled that it was time to go through the motion of eating again. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate. She had vague recollections of shoving the contents of a ration pack into her mouth. _Earlier today? No, maybe, yesterday?_ Her days and nights were blurring together. She had abandoned the day/night schedule while in orbit and hadn’t bothered to sync up with Echea’s diurnal cycle.

When she left her room, Chopper mercifully had gotten the message and was nowhere to be seen, although she could hear him chattering to himself in the cockpit. She moved to go, intending to dig something up to eat from the galley, but a thought made her pause. Of all the reasons Kanan might have been trying to contact her (although, of course, he hadn't), one of them nagged at her.  She remembered his last words to her. About spacing the stuff in his room. She hadn't thought about it at the time or in the days since.

But she was thinking about it now.

She turned to face his room.

Since he had first come aboard, all those months ago, Hera had never entered it. Her hand hovered over the door control pad for a long moment. Respecting a crew’s need for privacy was something she learned to value when she began crewing for others and started doing long flights.

But Kanan wasn’t crew anymore.

She pushed the button.

Stepping into the room and flicking the lights on, she blinked, studying his space. She sought some personal expression or adornment, something that said Kanan lived here. But her eyes skated over empty walls, as she turned in a full circle, finally settling on a lone blanket folded at the foot of the lower bunk. Without it, she would have assumed the room was unoccupied.

Hera’s hand moved to the nearest drawer set chest high along one wall. The same one in her room held her caps and lekku wraps.  The tips of her fingers grazed the durasteel before clenching into a fist. Yes, he had left her. Yes, he had left stuff behind that she would have to deal with. But she wasn’t ready to clean out his room. She would figure out what he had wanted her to space and everything else could wait until...later.

 _The drawer under the bunk._ That was where he had told her to look. _Ditch it in deep space._

“Oh, get over it already,” she hissed. Drawing a deep breath, she knelt in front of the row of the four drawers.

Jerking the first drawer open caused the contents to slide to the back from the sudden movement. Dipping her head to peer in, it was empty save for a handful of condoms. She felt the heat rise on her cheeks and hurriedly slid the drawer shut.

The next held a bag that took up only half the drawer. It clattered when Hera pulled it out. It took her a moment to open it, picking at the drawstring closing. Inside was money. Imperial credit chips, which was how she paid him, but there were also a few Huttese truguts and peggats and what looked to be a nova crystal shard. For a guy who lived paycheck to paltry paycheck, he had a decent amount of savings. She chewed her lip as she secured the bag closed again. It seemed unlikely that Kanan wanted her to space the credits.

Frowning, she tried the next drawer. Socks. Hera gave a weak smile. _Seriously, Kanan? You store your socks next to this much cash?_ She went through the drawer thoroughly, in case he was smuggling spice in one of them, but wasn’t surprised when it came up empty.

She tugged open the fourth and final drawer. As soon as she saw the contents she knew this was the one. It contained a spare holster and extra power packs for his blaster, but it was the other three items that caught her eye. She didn't know what they were, but she knew they were special.

“Jedi,” she whispered.

Yes. Being in possession of Jedi contraband would get her into trouble if discovered.

One was a palm-sized cube made of a bronzish metal and embossed with geometric patterns. Embedded on each side was a crystalline window. Peering inside, Hera could see more metallic pieces glittering. It was solid and comfortable in her hand despite its delicate beauty. She studied it for a long moment, turning it over before holding it to her ear and shaking. Unsure what it was for or how to use it, she placed it aside on the bed.

She frowned as she picked up the next two items — metallic cylinders, one short and one long. Her first impression was random mechanical parts from a speeder or a droid, but that wasn’t quite right. Looking closer she saw grooves scored inside the lip of the longer piece. The tip of the shorter one had a raised thread spiraling down it. Matching pieces. She wondered…

Her hands gave a small tremor as she held each in her palms. Taking a deep breath, Hera brought the pieces together. With a slight twist of her wrists, the parts slid together, making the tiniest of clicking sounds. Swallowing, she held it away from her body and found, right where it would make sense, a switch under her thumb. Before she could talk herself out of it, she gave it flick.

A humming beam erupted from her hands, saturating the room in its blue light. Despite suspecting its true purpose, Hera still nearly dropped the lightsaber. It made small vibrations that matched its hum, tickling her palms through her gloves. She held it for several long moments, frozen not out of fear but from shock. Surprised that lightsabers existed. Surprised that Kanan had one. Only Jedi had lightsabers. If Kanan had one, that meant that he was a Jedi.

It was one thing to have all the signs point to what he was. To see his Force abilities manifested. On The Harvester, in the canyons, and the effect of the vision.  It was something else entirely to hold an actual Jedi Knight’s weapon in your hand, pulsing with energy. While Kanan couldn't have been a knight, only a learner — he would have been too young when the Republic fell — she still had never really believed it was true. She had _thought_ it was true. _Suspected_ it was true.  But never _felt_ it to be true. Not in her heart.

Not that Kanan was a liar. Rather, Kanan was an endearing, not terribly dignified flirt who she had assumed, up until the moment he walked out on her, was smitten with her. The kind of guy who told bad jokes and got into bar brawls. Not the sort of person one imagines as a Jedi.  And perhaps that was his intention. Hera had never been able to reconcile what she thought she knew of the Jedi with the man she loved.  

Besides the Jedi were gone. More myth than reality to most in the Galaxy. She had heard first-hand accounts from her father during the war. But they were still only stories and half-remembered faces from her childhood. And they were fading from memory. Everyone’s memories.

Now she was faced with a solid physical reminder that they had been real. Thousands of hands holding thousands of weapons like this one. And they were all gone. Kanan, as much of a roughneck as he was, could very well be the last. And that scared her. It was terrifying to be close to such power that had been extinguished from the galaxy.

Timidly she dipped the tip of the lightsaber. Its tone changed, making a buzzing sound. She hadn't appreciated how much heft a lightsaber had, nor had she realized how noisy they were. She studied it with a morbid fascination for several moments, as the enormity of the Empire’s deeds set in. Switching it off, she released the breath she had been holding, her shoulders collapsing in understanding.

She had seen the Jedi as something from the pages of history. She thought she could have Kanan-as-crew separate from Kanan-as-the-man-she-loved. She could keep her battle in the forefront and squeeze a lover in on the side. She had been compartmentalizing everything to manage it.

But life doesn’t work that way. It leaks and bleeds and infuses into everything else in one great big connected net. The lightsaber drew the pieces together in a way that transcended her normal understanding. Kanan was as much a part of this fight as she was. His life only looked different than hers.

And he had walked out on her.

Quite possibly the loneliest man in the galaxy had forsaken companionship for more solitude.  

Hera’s knees no longer felt up to the task of supporting her. She collapsed on his bunk, her mind reeling, her stomach in knots. She tucked herself into a ball trying to hold it all in her head, until sleep claimed her, her fingers still curled around his lightsaber.

 

* * *

 

It was early afternoon when Kanan woke. His first thought, as it had been every morning since leaving her, was of Hera. And each morning it was different. Yesterday it had been: _What she’s doing now?_ Today it was: _Will she always hate me?_

He staggered to the dingy refresher. It was so tiny he needed to straddle the toilet to use the sink and to peer into the clouded mirror. It lacked a shower, sonic or otherwise, and made his personal hygiene routine an exercise in contortions as he bent over the small basin. He washed up as best he could with a stained towel and soap better suited for dishes than skin. This was followed by brushing his teeth with a toothbrush he had spent a precious credit on. Then he worked out the tangles in his hair with a stranger’s comb he had found abandoned in the bar ‘fresher. Scratching at the stubble on his cheeks, he realized he would need to put aside some credits for a razor soon.

This had been Kanan's routine for over a week, ever since the morning after the first night at the Sandstorm Bar. The night he had walked out on her and drank himself into a stupor before passing out. He had been far drunker than he could ever recall. Although technically, when one got that wasted, whole sections of time were missing, making comparisons dicey.

When Kanan woke, it was in a strange room. It held a tiny bed (more of a cot actually and probably designed for Rodian younglings, Kanan suspected) and rows of shelving filled with supplies — bartending goods, cleaning agents, non-perishable foods. The smell of pungent root vegetables, stale air, and his sweat had made him turn green.

When he had stumbled out, the barkeep, a taciturn Er’kit named Pax, informed him that accommodations had been made on his behalf for the night, but if he wanted to keep sleeping in the storage room, he would need to earn his keep.  The owner had been polite but reserved, and Kanan couldn’t get more out of the man on who his benefactor was. Given that he had drunk through the credits in his pocket the previous night, Kanan was more than glad to help out. He had slept on the streets before, and it wasn’t a fate he was eager to return to.

His time at The Asteroid Belt on Gorse wasn’t his first stint pouring drinks. Kanan knew his way around bars whether they were called taverns, cantinas, or nightclubs. Pax seemed to appreciate someone who could do things without being asked. The situation kept Kanan in enough credits to eat and a bed to sleep in. Consuming alcohol on the job was a definite perk and conducive to Kanan’s default state of doing as little thinking as possible.

To be fair, Pax probably didn’t appreciate how drunk Kanan got every night. So he saved the bulk of his imbibing until closing time. And the barkeep probably didn’t care for Kanan’s tendency for violence. He seemed to get in as many fights as he broke up. He suspected the bar had gotten rowdier since his arrival.

This morning, the bruise around his eye was a reminder of the folly of his coping techniques. A couple of nights ago someone had made a tail head slur and pushed all his Hera buttons at once. At the time it had been worth it, but Pax had nearly kicked him out at that point. Kanan knew that if he wanted to stay in credits, he needed to turn his self-destructive behaviors down a notch. The swelling wasn’t as pronounced as it first was. It was becoming more of a true black eye than the reddish mess it had been yesterday.  

“Real attractive, Kanan,” he muttered as he pulled his hair back. But then again, who was he trying to impress?

No, what was more troubling was that other than Pax’s anger he couldn’t remember the outcome of the fight. He didn’t know if he had done something he shouldn’t have. During his past binges, he had tried to keep things in check. Losing inhibitions could be a dangerous game when one had Force abilities. But this time felt different.

Even if he pretended otherwise.

Kanan emerged from the windowless back space into the larger bar room, grimacing at the bright afternoon sunlight. Not quite a hangover, he knew he needed to go through the motions until he woke up. This usually occurred sometime around dinner. If he kept going through the motions he wouldn’t remember, he wouldn’t think, he might survive this too.

And when he finally “woke up”? Well, that was his sign to pour himself something.

He nodded to Pax who sat in the corner booth, a datapad on his hand as he ran his numbers for the previous evening. The man absently dipped his head in acknowledgment, deep in his calculations. The first activity for Kanan was to make a sweep of the room, gathering any glasses that had already accumulated. Then reshelve the clean glasses from last night, check the keg levels, then —

“Hey, you!” The female voice had a distorted quality usually associated with helmets covering one's mouth.

Turning, he came face to face with two stormtroopers. He squinted trying to recall what he might have had done recently to warrant this attention. While nothing came to mind, he still made a concerted effort to not glance towards the door.

The Imperial presence was minor on Echea — one base on the far side of town. In fact, he hadn’t seen any troopers since he had started staying at the Sandstorm. If they weren’t here to order drinks, this must be a business call.

Years on the run had conditioned him, so despite the quickening of his pulse, his voice remained calm. “Something I can help you with?” he asked as he placed the dirty glasses on the counter behind him.

“Have you seen this woman?” the stormtrooper with the pauldron asked.

He felt the cold stab of fear as she pulled out a holoprojector. A small blue form flickered on, rotating in her palm. Kanan recognized the figure immediately. His fingers relaxed their death grip on the counter.

Not Hera.

Lirri.

To cover his relief, he lingered over the projection studying it. Lirri was standing relaxed and weaponless on the street, looking over her shoulder at something. Security footage outside some local establishment by the look of it.

He scratched at his beard, thinking. “No,” he said drawing the word out. “Can’t say I have? Is there a reason you’re looking for her?”

The other stormtrooper spoke, his tone all business. “Unlicensed bounty hunter activities.”

“You don’t say. You think she might have been in here recently?” Kanan asked as he started wiping the counters down.

“She was sighted nearby yesterday,” the woman said.

Kanan covered his surprise by picking at a spot of dirt with his fingernail, his mind already racing. _How did she...?_

The woman flicked off the holoprojector, securing it to her belt. “So it’s possible she might have come through. We have reason to suspect that she’s part of a larger ring of unregistered bounty hunters.”

“No?” Kanan said in mock disbelief. He wasn’t trying to be sarcastic, but it had a way of coming out even when he didn’t want it to. Especially when his mind was thinking quickly. The stormtrooper cocked her head towards Kanan as if gauging him. He gave her what he hoped was a placating smile. She apparently decided he wasn’t worth their trouble and signaled to her companion to move out.

When they left Kanan resumed gathering dirty glasses. With his hands busy, he directed his nervous energy into chewing on his lip. _Lirri sighted nearby? How had she made it out of the Canyonlands alive? And most importantly was she still looking for him?_ He grunted. If she was the grudge-holding type, then almost certainly.

Shaking his head as he put the last glass in the sink, he picked up a towel and began wiping the bar down. No matter how she survived, it was time to leave this moon. After a moment he noticed this section of the counter had received more than its fair share of attention. He knew why he had been lingering on Echea. He was hesitant about severing the last ties to Hera.  Pursing his lips, he let the air out of his lungs slowly and made a decision.

It was time to leave.

He resumed his table wiping when another thought struck him. Was Lirri any danger to Hera or Jondo? He wasn’t sure how to warn them. He had left his comlink behind when he had walked out, recognizing the temptation it held. Jondo had always been Hera’s contact. Kanan had done a good job of severing his ties. He had to hope that Lirri would have just as difficult of a time of tracking those two down as Kanan did.

No, he needed to move on. He’d finish cleaning the bar, collect his wages, grab his change of clothes, then head to the spaceport. He didn’t have enough credits to buy passage so he would look for a ship that needed crew.

Pax seemed more relieved than surprised when Kanan notified the man of his intent to move on, paying him a handful of credits. It would buy Kanan a few very cheap meals. In his ideal scenario, Kanan would have accrued at least a week’s worth of living expenses, but this would do.

The bar was starting to pick up, and Kanan felt a moment of regret for leaving the bartender before the evening rush. Then he remembered Lirri cuffing him and knew he needed to get a move on. He finished the last of the cleanup, grabbed his bag from the back room, and gave Pax a two finger salute goodbye.

He was about to step out the door when he came face to face with Jondo. Kanan groaned, knowing that the man was here for him. His disappointment was immediately followed by the realization that Jondo could contact Hera!

No. Kanan had closed that door. Best not to reopen it.

Jondo sized Kanan up, spotted the bag slung over his shoulder, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Going somewhere?”

“Away,” Kanan said, keeping his face neutral.

“Always away.” Jondo sighed, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Let me buy you a drink before you go,” he said, steering Kanan back to the bar.

Kanan grunted but didn’t resist. He took Jondo’s credits, then moved behind the counter, placing the money in the till, before holding up a bottle of whiskey questioningly. At Jondo’s nod, he poured two glasses and slid onto the barstool next to the man.

“I saw her,” Jondo said without preamble.

Kanan’s hand froze with his drink partway to his mouth. He didn’t bother feigning ignorance. “She ok?” he asked before taking a drink.

“She seemed...sad.”

Kanan ducked his head, avoiding Jondo’s gaze and feeling the heat rising on his cheeks.

Jondo continued, “And angry.”

Kanan took another sip not trusting himself to speak.

“Why?” Jondo asked.

“Why what?” Kanan was fairly sure he knew what Jondo wanted to know, but he wasn’t in the mood to be straightforward with his answers.

“Why‘d you do it?”

Kanan spun his glass around resisting the temptation to run his hand through his hair. “Not my type.” It was a bald-faced lie that even a stranger could see through so he added lamely, “It wouldn’t have worked out. I did us both a favor.”

Jondo hummed knowingly. Kanan tightened his grip on drink, resisting the urge to punch him.

Kanan turned to face him and asked bluntly, “Why exactly are you here?”

Jondo continued looking straight ahead, ignoring Kanan’s posturing. ’“I’m meeting with her this afternoon. She’s out on the flats. To finish...what we came out here to do.”

“Well, I hope you have a lovely visit. You know that was never my fight. So have fun with your —”

“She’ll be leaving after that.”

Time froze for a long moment until Kanan recovered turning back to the bar and raised his drink.  “Godspeed.”

Jondo shook his head at Kanan’s mocking tone. “And I wanted to check in on you. See how your accommodations are working out.”

“Ahhh. So that was you.”

Jondo made a sound that Kanan could only assume was a grunt of affirmation.

Kanan continued, “You know, I’m not sure how I feel about that. Every night I kept expecting a Dowutin to show up and demand payback in sexual favors. But nope, I owe you. Again. Not sure which is worse.”

“Prostitution or life debts?” Jondo smirked.

“When you put it like that, one blow job doesn’t sound so bad.”

Jondo burst out laughing, and Kanan joined him, but it was hollow and short lived.

“How did you find me?” Kanan asked. “I mean the first time. Last week.”

“Went to the first bar from the spaceport.”

“Ahhh. And how did you know to look for me? DId you talk to … her?” Saying her name felt beyond his capabilities at the moment.

“No, I didn’t talk to Hera until a few days ago. Just a hunch. And I needed a drink,” Jondo conceded before giving Kanan a sidelong glance. “I take it you don't remember?”

At the blank look on Kanan’s face, he continued, “Found you trying to start a fight but too drunk to stand. I talked the bartender here into letting you sleep it off. I was afraid you might do something stupid.”

“That I would,” Kanan nodded grimly. ”And did,” he amended thinking of the fight that had earned him a shiner.

There was a long drawn out silence before another question occurred to Kanan. “Why?” He looked at Jondo from the corner of the eye, hoping that the man wouldn’t need him to elaborate on his question.

“I keep asking myself that,” Jondo said.

“You don’t strike me as the smuggler with a heart of gold type.”

“Yet, here we are.” Jondo gestured with his glass.

“I hope you’re not waiting for a thank you,” Kanan said.

“From you? I’m not that patient.”

“Good. Just so we’re straight about that.”

“So why haven’t you gotten yourself killed yet?” Jondo nodded towards the bruise on Kanan’s cheek. “You’re looking for annihilation, so why not go all the way? “

Kanan scowled into his drink. He wasn’t ready to go where this conversation was headed.  Jondo turned towards him, and with a growing sense of dread, Kanan realized the man was taking it there anyways.

“Oh, because, you don’t want to put her in trouble. Because she’s still here, still nearby.” Jondo’s voice was steely and grew louder with every word.  “And you know getting in trouble, getting caught, might somehow jeopardize her. You don’t hate her.”

Kanan flinched.

Jondo continued, “It ‘wouldn’t work’ is a lie.”

Kanan’s mouth twisted with anger.

“You love her and left her anyways!” Jondo said leaning forward into Kanan’s face.

Kanan snapped at the hidden meaning in Jondo’s comments. Slamming his fist on the bar, he snarled, “This is Hera, not Janus!”

Jondo’s voice had regained its cool calm. “Could’ve fooled me,” he said sitting back on his stool.

Kanan gripped the edge of the bar. It wasn’t too late to squeeze one last brawl in. Jondo had racked up more than enough reasons for Kanan to deck him.

But as quickly as Kanan’s ire rose, it deflated again, surprising him. Instead of lashing out, a thought occurred to him. He studied the Devaronian for a long moment, who still had a challenging look in his eye.

“What do you do, when you know nothing you do will ever change what has already happened? That your past is your future? That it follows you wherever you go?” he asked quietly.

The Devaronian eyed him, trying to determine Kanan’s sincerity, before looking away as he considered his words.

When he spoke, all traces of anger were gone, leaving only understanding. “You have no control over the past or the future. You only have this moment. Make the best choice you can, given who you are right now. And then do it again, and again, and again.”

Jondo drained the last of his drink before leveling his gaze at him. “That will be the measure of your life.”

Sliding a flimsiplast across the counter to Kanan, he said, “Talk to her. Do the right thing. Don’t leave it like this.”

 

* * *

 

 

The flimsi was crumpled in Kanan’s pocket as he headed towards the spaceport. A quick glance had revealed the aurebesh scrawled on it to be coordinates. But despite Jondo’s stern words, Kanan had no intention of doing the right thing.

After the man had left, Kanan had nursed the rest of his drink, washed the glasses, and nodded to Pax one last time before heading out.  He had wanted to give Jondo plenty of time to clear out of the vicinity before the man's rendezvous with Hera. Despite his comments to the contrary, Kanan had felt a pang of envy that Jondo would be seeing her shortly.

He scanned the streets as he walked. The handful of times he had ventured from the bar, he had looked for signs of Hera. Now Kanan watched for Hera and Lirri, an odd mix of hope and dread at seeing one, fear of seeing the other. He scowled when he remembered that he hadn’t warned Jondo about Lirri. Hopefully, the Devaronian would conduct his business with Hera and then both would be gone by nightfall. It was also possible that Lirri had gotten wind of the stormtroopers on her tail and made herself scarce.

Kanan strode past a bazaar. It was the one he had visited when they first came to Echea a couple of weeks ago. The smells made his stomach growl, but he had no appetite. Kanan remembered the moment he first realized he was in love with Hera. It was odd; he didn’t feel like he loved her any less now that they were apart. But how naive he had been, to think he could make it work.

Turning into the main entrance of the spaceport, he took in his surroundings, trying to determine his next move. He knew from the incoming trip on _The Phantom_ that there were at least a dozen berths here. There was another spaceport on the far side of the town that was far larger and included a landing pad that spilled out into the open lands around it. It would house the bigger freighters that had a higher need for crew than the smaller starships here. But it was also on the far side of town, and next to an Imperial base, so he might as well start here.

Kanan followed the signs to the port manager’s office, located off the main corridor.  They would have a decent idea of the comings and goings and be able to point him in the direction of one in need of crew. The room was empty when he arrived, and he settled into wait. It wasn’t like he was in a hurry. Except for the fact that his mind started straying into uncomfortable territory when he had nothing to do.

When his restlessness got the best of him, Kanan wandered behind the desk, scanning the port manager’s displays. One showed the status of all the berths. Curious now, he couldn’t help but search for signs of _The Phantom_ or Syndulla, despite knowing Jondo, at this very moment, was meeting her outside of town. He was still disappointed when he didn’t see the ship listed.

Nine of the twelve berths were occupied though. That bode well for Kanan. A couple held shuttle class ships, likely bussing people around. Those rarely needed crew, since they tended to be droid piloted. A couple of other ships appeared to be small personal crafts. He focused on the remaining five — all light freighters by the look of it.  Kanan switched to a display showing the port manager’s logs. He came across an entry that made him freeze.

A light freighter, _The Pursuant_ , SS-54 model, occupying Berth 8 for the last ten days, a crew of one, piloted by a Lirri Sprii.

Lirri. She was still here. It might not be the same Lirri. But he wouldn’t count on it.

A moment later he was on his feet and in the main corridor. Thinking quickly, Kanan recalled _The Phantom_ had been in Berth 6. Lirri’s ship would be one berth down. The sound of female voices coming from the main entrance made him freeze.  And a flash of pink made him retreat into the office. He slid the door closed behind him.

With a grim smile, he pulled his blaster out of his holster. Lirri was coming to him. He either had terrible luck, or his luck was changing. Pressing his back against the cold of the door, he ignored the pain in the tips of his fingers as he worked them into the crack of the door. He gave it a quick jerk, tugging it ajar. Just enough to hear better.

“ — forget it. Jump from here tonight and take up moisture farming or something.” A stranger’s voice.

“C’mon. I need this one last score.” Kanan recognized Lirri’s distinctive accent. “Then I can cover those debts. I know—  ”

“ — no, you think you know.”

He caught a glimpse of blue, a Pantoran woman, and Lirri’s tattooed arm flashed through the gap in the door before heading down the hall.

Lirri’s voice was firm as she replied. “The flats west of here. My contact told me that it’s a VCX series with an auxiliary shuttle. A shuttle that matches the port manager’s description. It has to be.”

Kanan’s eyes widened. Lirri had tracked down _The Ghost_. He bit back a curse, not wanting to miss whatever the two would say next.

“You turn in the bounty, and we’ll split it, forty-sixty,” Lirri said.

“Uggg, fine. But fifty-fifty.” Lirri made a noise of protest, but the other woman pressed on, “I’m the one with guild access now. And we have to hurry. I don’t want to be around when the Empire catches up with you.”

“Stop! Hands where we can see them,” a distant voice commanded.  

Kanan winced, surprised that the situation could get worse.

His pounding heart filled the long moments before Lirri spoke again. “Sorry, officers, we don’t want any trouble.”

Kanan shifted, adjusting his view through the door opening, hoping to catch a clue about what was happening. The air suddenly erupted with the sound of blaster fire. Kanan reflexively ducked despite his cover. He was out of harm’s way unless they had a grenade or thermal detonator. Then he might need to worry.

It turned out, he only had time for a had split second of worry. The clattering sound of metal sliding across duracrete was his only warning.

Kanan flew sideways as the explosion rocked the spaceport. His cover — the durasteel door — was blown off its track. This both shielded him from the worst of the blast and pushed him across the room. He fell heavily on the floor, the door on top of him. Smoke billowed into the room as he lay dazed for long moments. He had been protected by the worst of the concussive forces, but his ears were still ringing. He could barely make out the sound of footfalls in the silence.

Mentally scanning his body, he felt battered but nothing demanding his immediate attention. Heaving the door to one side, he scrambled to his feet, retrieving his blaster from where it had dropped.

Detonators weren’t stormtroopers’ usual tactic. It must be Lirri and her friend, but there was no sign of them in the hallway. He could make out two bodies near the entrance shrouded in dust and rubble. Speederbike troopers by the look of their gear.

As long as Lirri knew where Hera was, the Mikkian was still a threat. Kanan turned towards Berth 8, breaking into a cautious jog, blaster ready. His pace quickened when he heard the distinctive whoosh of a starship’s sublight engine powering up. He began panicking when he heard the clang of a hatch closing. Leading with his blaster, he darted through the hangar door into the berth.  But his caution had been unnecessary. _The Pursuant_ was already airborne. It cleared the rim of the spaceport’s docking bay before turning.

A Western orientation, Kanan bitterly noted as he holstered his weapon.

No alarms had sounded, but local security or Imperial reinforcements would arrive soon. And it would take a bit longer until the Empire connected the deaths of the troopers with Lirri. And then Lirri with the departure of _The Pursuant_. But that would be enough time for her to be out of range of the local scanners. And on her way towards Hera.

In the meantime, Kanan didn’t want to be caught here.

He fingered the flimsiplast in his pocket, his heart thudding in his chest. If Lirri only had a vague idea of where Hera was, then there was still time.

A wry grin tugged at his lips.

There was a speeder bike or two in front of the spaceport that was short a couple of troopers.  


	11. Firefight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated Teen for canon-typical violence.
> 
> No beta. I welcome you pointing out all my embarrassing mistakes.

The wind coming off the flats was pleasant, drying the sweat on Hera’s skin and leaving a salty residue across her temples. She stood in the shade of the _Ghost_ , hands on her hips, and only half listened to Jondo as he paced. Stripped down to a tank top, she savored the air teasing her bare shoulders.

“This!” He glanced up from the datapad even as he gestured with it.  “This is amazing. This planet, Jedha—”

“Jedha’s a moon. NaJedha is the planet,” Hera corrected him absently as she kicked at a rose-colored rock.

She had been working on overhauling the hyperspace drive when Jondo showed up. To do so, she had to cut the life support which resulted in the _Ghost_ , despite its open hatches, slowly heating up in Echea’s sun. They were meeting in the shade of the ship and due to the late hour, they found themselves next to it instead of under it.

“Yes, it has insanely high amounts of Imperial communication. And these other spots? Next to nothing. I know where I’ll look next time I need to lie low.”

She leaned against the seat of his bike as she listened, crossing one foot over the other, bobbing as the repulsors adjusted to her weight. She knew it all. She just wasn’t that excited by it at the moment.

She and Chopper had somehow managed to do a little analysis on the data. The reality was one could be looking the other way and still trip across something interesting. There was so much there that a whole team of people could spend years on it, reverse engineering what exactly was going on with the Empire.

Despite this, she still wasn’t sure how she had gotten anything out of it in her state. Apparently, staying up late and drinking too much caf did wonders for one’s productivity. Pretending everything was ok probably helped as well. Getting this over with — handing off the information, finishing up her repairs and then leaving Echea — this is what motivated Hera as of late. Jondo had been a good partner, but he was tied up in too many memories now. No, she would coordinate a drop spot with Fulcrum to hand off the intel and then she could wash her hands of this blasted moon. A routine supply run sounded like a good next move.

And then, as her mind always did when she wasn’t watching, slid to thinking about Kanan, wondering if he was getting on better than she was. He had to be, right? He’s the one that left her.

Today, that was what stung the most. He hadn’t been planning on sticking around. Kanan had been honest about his pattern of leaving when things got too much. But she couldn’t help but wonder when he had decided when to leave her?  Had he known before Echea? Or had it been a last minute decision, perhaps during their last night together?

“Hera?”

She looked up, suddenly aware that Jondo had called her name more than once. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I saw Kanan.”

She couldn’t stop the flinch.  But she was able to smooth it out quickly.

“Thought you might like to know.”

Hera drew a deep breath through her nose giving herself a moment before replying, her voice measured and even. “And why would I want to know that?”

“Hera…” Jondo had approached the bike and could now speak in low tones. “It’s obvious.”

“Well, maybe to you, but not to — ” She broke off, thinking better of sharing so much with him.  “Listen, I don’t want to talk about it,” she said looking away. Her fear of falling apart in front of Jondo was stronger than her fear of being rude.

“He didn’t look good if that’s any consolation.”

She pursed her lips but said nothing. When Jondo remained silent, she stole a glance at him. His attention had shifted from both her and his datapad, frowning at something on the horizon. Hera turned to look, raising a hand to cut the glare. A puff of dust was rising in the distance.

“What…?” She squinted until a small form could be made out as the source of the clouds, jolting her with adrenaline. “Chopper! Scans!” she barked over her shoulder in the direction of the cargo hold.

The droid trundled down the ramp. “Bwap-waa-waa.”

“Too hot for—?!” she asked in disbelief. “Just do it!”

“Mwaawaah, mwah waah,” he retorted as he retreated into the cargo hold.

Ignoring his backtalk, Hera turned back towards the disturbance on the horizon. Jondo had closed his organic eye, a technique she had come to recognize as a method for focusing on inputs from his cybernetic one.

“Speeder Bike. Imperial issue.” He paused for a long moment as the cloud continued to grow. “But that’s not a stormtrooper.”

Hera squatted, pulling the Blurrg from her boot holster. Her mind mulled over possibilities, most of them not good.

“No one knows I’m here. Except…” Jondo muttered.

She shifted from foot to foot, her fingers adjusting their grip on the blaster.

“Kanan,” Jondo said relief in his voice. “It’s him.”

“Kanan? Kanan knows you are here? And where _here_ is?!”

“I might have mentioned it to him,” Jondo said, looking sheepish.

Hera scowled holstering the weapon, knowing that she would be tempted to use it if she kept it in her hand. Chopper returned from the hold, ramming her leg to get her attention.

“Wap-wap-wap-bwah.”  

“Thanks, Chop,” she said rolling her eyes.  “We’ve already determined it’s someone on a speeder bike.”

She ignored the droid’s chipper _you’re welcome_ , instead, turning to Jondo.  “Why would you tell him where to find me?” He had at least a score of centimeters on Hera, put she didn't hesitate to pull herself to her full height to get in his face.

Jondo held his hands up placatingly. “Just listen to him.”

“You _wanted_ him to come here,” she said in sudden realization. He was trying to fix things by playing the middleman. She felt a sudden pain at this unexpected betrayal.

She jabbed a finger in Jondo’s face. Working her jaw, she gathered herself to let him have it, but the whine of the speeder bike grew louder. Loud enough that she never had a chance to tell him what she thought of his meddling. When the engine cut out, she dropped her hand but couldn’t make herself turn around. At the crunch of rocks beneath boots, she felt the blood drain from her face.

“Hera.”

Her eyes slid shut at the familiar voice. Distantly she noted Kanan sounded sad, but far too in command.

“Hera… You need to — ”

The pounding in her ears drowned out his remaining words, and she spun to face him. Her vision tunneled so that only Kanan existed and she was spitting out words as she closed the distance between them. “You come here to my ship and have the nerve to tell me what I _need_ to do?!”

As she bore down on him, Kanan shrunk from her rage, ducking his head and raising his hands, his fingers spread wide. But Hera didn’t stop her forward press, forcing him to scramble backward. When his foot caught on a rock, she launched herself at him. He fell to the ground in a cloud of dust. She straddled him, a boot on either side of his waist. Her breath came in short hisses through bared teeth, and her eyes bore into him. One hand found a fistful of his shirt, the other balled and aimed at his nose.

He didn’t fight back. He met her gaze, sadness and resignation etched on his face. She knew she could punch him and that he would take it. She felt disgusted, whether at herself or Kanan she didn’t know. Lowering her fist, she dropped to her knees, her fingers still tangled in his shirt, the edge of her rage blunted.

“Hera, I deserve all that, but first I have something to tell you.”

He kept his hands up as if she thought he might reach for his blaster. But as her anger lessened, she allowed herself to see him, to see him as something beyond a threat to her wounded ego. His brow furrowed in concern. The black eye was a new addition since last time she had seen him. Apparently, he had encountered someone with a mean left hook. His stubble was treading into beard territory. Was he more handsome than she remembered?

She cursed under her breath, hardening herself to his scruffiness. “You’ve already told me everything, and you’ve not listened once. Not a great way to work things out,” she fumed.

“I’m not here to work anything out. I’m here—”

“Wait? What?!” She released his shirt and rose off of him.  “You’re not?” She shot Jondo a questioning look.

Kanan scrambled to his feet.

“No. I'm not.”

He paused for a long moment before reaching his hand towards her, his voice low and pleading. “Hera— ”

“No! You don’t get to come here and start talking like nothing’s happened,” she hissed.  “You ran out without a word why. I deserve answers. I deserve a say. If this is over, fine. But you don’t get to dictate the terms. We talk it out like adults.”

She felt some satisfaction when his composure broke and he snapped. “Ok! But after I tell you why— ”

The unmistakable shriek of laser bolts erupted around them. Hera ducked instinctively.

The blasts traced a rhythmic line across the ground. One landing close enough that Hera could feel the flush of its sudden warmth on her skin. Another made the _Ghost’s_ hull reverberate so strongly that she could feel it through her boots.

A shower of sand and rocks forced her eyes shut. Kanan’s hands were on her, shoving her deeper into the cover of the ship.  A loud explosion and a wave of heat washed over Hera, and she peeked through parted fingers. The bike Kanan had ridden in on was now a flaming fireball.

Hera recovered first and pulled out of Kanan’s grasp, whirling on him. “Who followed you?!”

Kanan drew back to avoid her whipping lekku. “No one followed me! I was trying to get here before the bounty hunter did! I came to warn you, if you would let me finish.”

“Let you finish? Haven’t you already decided that for the both of us?”

Kanan blinked incredulously, opening and closing his mouth before finding his words. “Fine! Fine! Can we all agree we are danger and do something about that?”

Hera paused for only a heartbeat before her training overcame her emotional turmoil. “This isn’t finished!” she said over her shoulder, moving towards the ramp.  “Jondo, are you coming or not?”

She didn’t think it was much of a choice. Her ship was about to be airborne and remaining on the flats with only a bike was suicide when laser cannons were involved.

Chopper descended the ramp and nearly collided with her. She hopped to catch her balance as he reported in.

“Bwaa-waa-bwaaaa.” _A ship on the scans._

Hera scowled. “So now your scanners work?!”

Ducking her head low to see beneath the _Ghost’s_ belly, she could just make out the ship. It was larger than a one-person ship, but not as large as the _Ghost_ and was now making a large swooping arc low on the horizon. They were lining up for another pass.

“Chop, shields!” she barked before continuing up the ramp.

Jondo rushed past, securing his bike in the hold, as Chopper fired his rocket booster to ascend to the cockpit level. Hera felt some small measure of relief that they were following orders and not being as contrarian as Kanan. A perk of being the captain was that it dovetailed nicely with one’s inner need for control.

“Kanan, talk,” she said, climbing the ladder to the cockpit.

“Now?! We’re getting shot at,” he glanced in the Devaronian’s direction, “and, uh, Jondo—”

“The bounty hunter! Tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh, right. It’s Lirri, the same one that caught me. She survived. Word got around that the _Ghost_ was out here and she made the connection to me. She wants to finish this score.”

“So she did survive… Jondo take the turret!” Hera jerked her thumb towards the gun but kept moving towards the cockpit, not bothering to see if he could find his way.

“Yes. Lirri has the Empire on her tail, so she's recruited the help of a friend to finish the job.” Kanan stopped short and glanced around when they arrived in the cockpit. “Why is it so hot in here?” he asked.

“Life support’s offline. You, nose gun.” Hera said jabbing him in the shoulder before grabbing the pilot’s chair. “What are we up against?”

Kanan half slid, half dropped under the console into the nose gun’s bubble before calling up to her. “A gunship with a pair of front-mounted cannons. Two person crew.”

Hera’s hands moved through force of habit, performing actions that she had done thousands of times — closing all hatches, engaging repulsors, igniting engines. Without conscious thought she scanned for warning lights, ignoring the ones for life support and the hyperdrive. The latter’s guts were still strewn about the engine room, so there was no time to bring the former online.

The vicinity scans flickered to life; the gunship’s location blinked an angry red. It was still on an intercept path with the _Ghost_. If Kanan was correct, the bounty hunter was outgunned. Lirri presumably had been counting on a surprise attack but had lost that advantage. With the hyperdrive out, Hera would move to pursue, but she wasn't certain what their tactic would be until she engaged the gunship.

The _Ghost_ rose off the rocky ground, and she hit the thrusters, accelerating to a cruising speed but not before Lirri strafed by again. Hera grimaced at the ominous shudder as the hull took several direct hits. Lights flashed on the control panel. Alarms sounded. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the gunship speed off their starboard side. She relaxed at the screeching pulse of laser cannons engaging. Jondo had found the turret gun.

“Chop, where are my shields?!” Hera called over her shoulder, as she started to prioritizing the warning lights on the console. A slight tremor on the yoke signaled the moment the shields kicked in, and her breathing eased. The shields’ display was the reassuring green of one hundred percent.

“Thank you,” she muttered under her breath and turned the _Ghost_ in a tight arc to pursue the gunship. “Shields forward, Chop.”

The bounty hunter was ready as the two ships went head to head, a perfect setup for Kanan in the nose gun.

But while a volley of laser shots traced across the Echean sky towards them,  the _Ghost_ remained ominously silent. The moment stretched out for a long moment until the cockpit erupted as everyone spoke at once.

“Why is no one shooting?!” Hera yelled.

“Guns out!”

“No power!”

“Waa-bwaa-bwaa!” _Shields frozen._

Hera had a moment of panic as her mind raced through possibilities.

“Jammed?” she asked even as put the the _Ghost_ into a roll, trying to evade the rest of the gunship’s shots. She gasped when her stomach fell, the telltale sign of losing altitude. Her second engines weren’t kicking in like the should. She corrected by pulling up steeply.

“No. Just no power,” Jondo said on the internal comm, his voice raised to be heard over the din the alarms.

“Same here,”  Kanan called out. She cocked her head sideways to look under the console at him in amazement.

“What?!”

“No power,” he said shrugging, pulling the trigger several times. No sound or movement came out.

Hera scanned the dash, before finally locating the problem. “Damn.”

“What is it?” Kanan said. He had retreated from the nose and ascended the cockpit ladder.

“Chopper, route auxiliary power to the second engines.”

“Bwa-wawp.”

Hera frowned at his response. The _Ghost_ wasn’t responding to Chopper's commands to reroute the power. She flipped half a dozen switches in an attempt to divert power to any of the systems, but nothing was coming up. She cursed again, this time under her breath.

She gave Kanan a long look, biting her lip as she thought. He raised an eyebrow at her expression, but Hera shifted her focus back to the scans. Lirri was moving to intercept them again. Hera muttered to hang on as she pulled her ship out of the line of fire, doing the best she could despite being short two engines. Jondo staggered into the cockpit, trying to maintain his footing through her maneuvers, and then collapsed into the seat behind Kanan. Hera felt moderately better when she came in above and behind the gunship, out of the firing zone. It bought her a few moments to think.

“The second pass of blaster fire must have damaged the power distributor,” she said.

“The thing that converts power between the various systems?” Kanan asked.

“Chopper, I need you on the power distributor. Now!” she said before returning her attention to Kanan. “Yeah. We’ve got no power to any of my variable power systems, which includes the cannons and the secondary engines. The good news is that the shields are at,” she paused as she checked the scans one more time, “eighty percent. But I can’t direct them to where we need it most.”

“If no guns, how about a hyperspace jump?”

“It’s down. I was working on it when Jondo showed up. Plus life support is offline. We wouldn’t even make it halfway to the stratosphere.”

“Can we outrun them?” Jondo asked.

“I’m certain the _Ghost_ has more power than their ship, but we’re stuck at this cruising speed. Only the main engine has power, not the secondary one. We can do some maneuvering, but we can’t land without the repulsor lifts or the ability to slow down.”

“The Phantom?” Kanan suggested.

“Again, we need power from the _Ghost_ to detach. The connection is designed to withstand deep space and massive G’s. And there’s no way of doing that manually.”

“So we have shields, and that’s it?” Kanan’s brow furrowed as it dawned on him just how crippled the ship was.

“Yeah, and enough speed not to fall out of the sky,” she replied grimly.

“How long will the shields hold?” Jondo asked.

She glanced at the display before answering. “Another 15 minutes at this rate?” The movement of Lirri’s ships on the scans had gotten Hera’s attention. She began to set up for another evasive action. “Chop! If you don’t get that distributor working you are looking at y-wing disaster all over again.”

“Shields won’t hold forever,” Jondo said.

“I know. I know,” Hera muttered, wincing as the _Ghost_ slipped downwards when her turn was too tight.

“Parachutes?” Kanan suggested hopefully.

Hera gave a grim chuckle. “I’ve been meaning to get some. Maybe next supply run.”

“So,” Kanan spoke slowly, “what you are saying is that there is no plan B if Chopper doesn’t get the power distributor fixed in time?”

Hera met his eyes for a long moment before glancing away.

“Wawp wuwp wuwp bwaa,” Chopper reported. _The distributor’s wiring was fried_.

The slump of Kanan’s shoulders mirrored her own as this news sank in. Replacing wiring was a notoriously labor intensive fix.

Kanan sighed then leapt up. “I’m on it.”

“No, we don’t have time, and I know my ship better. You fly,” Hera said rising.

Kanan stopped her with a hand on her arm. “We’ll do it together. Jondo can fly.”

She must have given him a look because he gave her a reassuring nod. “He was in the CIS military. He knows aerial combat. He’s got this.”

Hera frowned considering this new bit of information. Jondo was already sliding into the pilot’s chair, studying the controls for a moment before his hands settled on the yoke. “GO!” he yelled.

And they went.

She followed Kanan, sliding down the ladder into the engine room. He broke left to grab supplies, while she peeled right to access the hatch to the distributor system. Grunting when the door stuck, she pulled hard then winced when it popped off. Smoke rolled out, filling the space and assailing her nose with its acrid smell. It wasn’t actively combusting at this point, but the wiring was a scorched mess. Watering eyes and a coughing fit made it difficult to assess the damage.

Jondo rolled into an evasive maneuver so that Hera had to brace herself against the frame of the hatch. She was beginning to feel slightly more confident about his piloting abilities, but it was countered by the sinking feeling she got looking at the wiring. She wouldn’t give herself the luxury of doing calculations on how long it would take to fix.

Red wiring was for the guns and should be their priority. Squinting she located where those came out of the power distributor and started yanking on fried cables. Even deep in the engine room, Hera could feel the subtle reverberations of laser fire hitting the shields. Jondo’s voice came over the internal comms. “Shields at 70.”

Kanan returned with the supplies but had to wade through the growing pile of charred wiring. He handed her the cabling tool and then began feeding her new wires, already prepped for connecting. They quickly settled into a rhythm of tugging, handing off, and crimping into place the various leads.

Without consciously deciding to, Hera found herself talking. Her hands had done repair work like this hundreds of times and speaking became the distraction to keep her mind from freezing up when she considered what was at stake.

“You left without talking,” she said, stealing a glance at Kanan. He flinched, as he passed her a cable, but otherwise remained silent.

“I know you have issues with staying in one place for too long, but you never even gave me a chance to fix whatever was broken?” She laughed coldly. “At the very least we could have broken up together.”

“Hera…” He shook his head, even as he measured out a length of wiring from a spool.  “I didn’t want to break up. I just want you to live. Or at least not be the death of you.”

“What are you talking about?” Her knuckles slammed on the edge of the panel when a wire popped loose suddenly, and she grunted.

“I’m what’s broken. And I’m not fixable. I can pretend and ignore it, but it always comes back to who I am, who I’ll always be. I didn’t want to leave, but I did it to protect you.”

“Yet here you are,” she said bitterly, watching him from the corner of her eye as she crimped a line of wires in place.

“I’m not staying.”

She stopped working at his words, but only for a second. She hadn’t realized she was hoping the answer would be different until he spoke those words.

“So you show up to clean up your loose ends and then leave again?!”

Jondo jerked the _Ghost_ through another maneuver as Lirri’s ship shrieked overhead. Hera was still braced against the frame of the hatch, but Kanan stumbled sideways as a rat’s nest of wiring slid across the deck.

His bewilderment was clear. He shook his head and protested, “If I don’t leave now, I’ll never leave.”

He said it as if it was the most obvious thing and was confused that she didn’t understand. It was a confession, an admission of weakness. But Hera heard a promise between the words. She stopped, stunned, as the implications sunk in. Her eyes rose to meet Kanan’s seeking verification.

Jondo’s voice chimed in, tinny and urgent on the comms. “Guys! Can we skip the marriage proposals? We’ve got more pressing concerns. Shields are down to two-thirds. Please tell me you are making progress.”

It took Hera a moment to recover and then her hands were flying over the wiring again, deftly weaving a new cable in with the existing. Dread still weighed heavily in her belly at what felt like a doomed attempt at repairs. But something that felt like hope fluttered higher in her throat at Kanan’s inadvertent confession.

The wiring was taking too long.

But what Kanan spoke of was not a lack of feeling for her but something else.

“Why is that a problem?” she asked her voice now gentle amid the squawking of warning alarms.

“Because,” he said shoving a handful of wires at her like an exotic bouquet, “I’ll never be the person _you_ want me to be. I’ll never be a freedom fighter. Not really. And I’ll always be the person _I_ don’t want to be. I’ve tried to pretend I’m not a Force wielder. But it doesn’t matter what I want. I’ll always be a who I am. You don’t want the first, and it’s not safe to be with that latter.”

A fresh round of lasers landed, vibrating through the engine room.

“Shields at half!” Jondo interjected.

Hera glanced at the comm speaker, her lips pressed into a grim line. They wouldn’t finish this in time. For some reason, clearing the air with Kanan had become the most important task for her.

“I’m sorry, Kanan. I thought I could pick and choose. And I was wrong. I want all of you, whatever that looks like. Revolutionary or not. Jedi or not. Safe or not. Well, mostly _not_ as of late,” she replied with a sad smile.

She turned to him and gripped his forearm, any pretense of fixing wires dropped. “Please?”

He looked dazed. “It was never you, Hera,” he said shaking his head.

“For me then? Will you try?”

She wasn’t aware that she had stopped breathing, or that her fingers dug into Kanan’s arm, or that the shield reverberated with vibrations from another round of fire. She only searched his face.

Something heartbreaking rippled through his features as his eyes met hers. Anguish? No, hope. “I want to try,” he said.

It wasn’t a promise or declaration. Only an admission, but Hera would take it. She breathed again, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Shields at forty percent!” Jondo yelled. “If anyone has a bad idea, that’s better than none.”

Kanan shook his head, before pulling from her grasp, his fingers pressing into his temples as he considered something.

Hera blinked as she shifted gears yet again, “What is it?”

“I have an idea,” he shouted for Jondo’s benefit, before turning to Hera. “I’ll need a boarding wedge. You got one?”

“A boarding…” Hera trailed off processing the request.

A boarding wedge was a type of pry bar used to force entry into airlocks. Handy for broken doors and piracy. An entirely commonplace device but her head was consumed by matters of the gravest important so that it took her a second to recall where she stored it. “Um, yeah. By the airlocks.”

Kanan spun and took the ladder two rungs at a time. She scrambled to follow, slipping on the wiring. On the airlock level, she pushed past him to pop open the storage panel. Kanan grabbed the tool from its hook and ran to the exterior door. Overriding the safety mechanism, he jabbed the open button.

“It’s no good. It’s tied to the distributor, too,” Hera said. A sudden dip by the _Ghost_ caused Kanan to stumble into her, and she put two hands against the wall to steady them.

“What are you trying to do?” she asked.

Kanan ignored her question as he extricated himself. “Jondo! Cease evading!”

“You want them to hit us?!” Jondo asked incredulously.

“Yes! And follow a straight course.”

The ship evened out, and Kanan turned to give Hera an apologetic look. “Sorry about the doors.”

He shoved the angled end of the wedge into the crack of the airlock and yanked. The metal bent and creaked as he compromised the first edge of the door. They wouldn’t hold a seal until repaired but it seemed a small price to pay.

“Better the doors than the whole ship. What’s your plan?”

Kanan didn’t respond, instead finagling the internal catch, and then working on the outer seal. The sudden whistle of air marked the moment it cracked. He jerked it open further with his hand and then wriggled his body into the opening. Fresh air blew through the passageways and Hera caught a glimpse of pink cloudless sky behind him. Bracing his back against the frame, his foot against the door, he managed to shove the it wide open before dashing towards the other side. Hera took a moment to lean out and look at the rocky landscape far below.

Following the ominous sounds of metal screeching, she found him doing the same to the opposite door, hanging halfway out of the _Ghost_. The wind whipped through the corridor, going from stagnant and hot to a goosebump-inducing chill. Hera’s sense of foreboding grew with every degree of temperature drop.

The shields pinged as Lirri strafed overhead.  A shot landed right in front of Kanan’s face. The invisible barrier flared and pulsed with color as it absorbed the energy, but his focus was intense, and he didn’t flinch. But Hera did. The shields were almost gone, and she still didn’t understand what he was up to. She didn’t know how she could help. So she stood helplessly watching him, her hands balled into fists.

Kanan was still now. He seemed to be studying Lirri’s ship, squinting against the wind buffeting him through the open door. Hera finally got a decent visual on the gunship. This model held its twin engines aft and far to either side, like a pod racer that had gotten ahead of itself. It made a large loop, turning for yet another pass, traveling perpendicular to the _Ghost’s_ path.  The bounty hunter must be having a field day without the _Ghost_ shooting back or evading.

“Jondo, drop lower!”  Kanan called out. As they descended, so did the gunship, trying to keep its prey within its cannons’ line of fire. Hera glanced back and forth between the enemy ship and Kanan’s inactivity, trying to suppress her rising alarm. The shields had to be nearly gone.

“Kanan?!” She hoped he could hear the panic in her voice over the wind.

Hera held her breath as the next volley of laser fire hit, expecting the shields to give out this round. Like a kick to her gut,  she recognized the exact moment the pinging of gunfire shifted tone. The last blast was a live one, hitting the hull as the shields dissipated.

“Shields gone!” Jondo yelled. Hera definitely heard the panic in his voice.

Kanan leaned out the airlock, watching the gunship pass overhead. One hand gripped the edge of the airlock, white knuckled.  The other hand held the boarding wedge. Strands of hair had come loose from his ponytail and whipped about his face. Hera felt her stomach clench at his antics. Her anger flared at his cavalier behavior — at his lack of communication — that this might be how they spent their last few moments.

“Kanan,” Hera pleaded.

Kanan turned to look at her. For a brief moment, she felt a hint of relief, only to have it crushed when then he spoke. “Hera, stand to the side.”

“Wha—”

“Jondo! Get ready to give me fifty meters of altitude. Quickly.”

Kanan ran to the far airlock, checked Lirri’s ship, then turned to face inward. Hera stood dazed in the central corridor watching as he moved into a crouch. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments. There was something deep and inscrutable there. Sadness? Resignation?

Then Hera finally understood.

“Kanan, NO! Not like this!” Hera held her hands up as she shook her head.

Kanan pulled his gaze away, glancing over his shoulder at the approaching gunship. He shouted one last time. “Jondo, NOW!”

Time slowed down for Hera.

“You said you wanted to try. You said you wouldn’t leave,” she whispered, closing her eyes. She knew he couldn’t hear her over the incessant alarms blaring, the rush of air, and his own concentration.

Kanan’s footsteps grew louder. He was running, running up the airlock corridor. She found herself taking a step back, pressing herself against the wall. She felt the slight vibrations of the deck from his pounding feet as he passed. Opening her eyes, she saw a blur of green and pumping arms, before he descended on the far side. He was gaining speed.

He didn’t slow down as he approached the open door.

One precisely placed foot on the threshold.

Launching himself out.

Into open air.

His arms pinwheeled. Her breath caught.

He arced farther than she thought was possible. When the curve transitioned into a freefall, her stomach plummeted with him.

Hera flew to the open airlock. Hanging onto the frame, she looked out, watching him fall through the sky. The ground was impossibly far below, his form tiny against the vastness of the moon.

The gunship whined underneath them, having dipped to avoid a collision from the _Ghost’s_ sudden change in altitude. Kanan’s arc was on a perfect intercept path with it. Her whole body tensed as he landed belly first on one of the engine struts. For a sickening moment, he slid backward, the boarding wedge still clutched in one hand. Somehow he caught himself, jamming the pry bar into a joint of the ship. Hera began breathing again as he started working his way across the surface in a slow, slippery crawl.

When they traveled out of her field of vision, Hera spun to leave. Time sped up again, and she couldn’t move quickly enough. Bursting into the cockpit with a gust of cold air, she seized Jondo’s shoulder, dragging him out of the pilot’s seat.

“Where’s Kanan?” Jondo asked, not missing a beat at her manhandling, moving to the co-pilot’s seat.

Hera didn’t reply, instead focusing on bringing the _Ghost_ around. She wanted a visual on the gunship.

“Is he doing what I think he’s doing?”

The _Ghost_ banked tightly, or as tight as it could with only one set of engines.

“Yes,” she said grimly.

“What is it with that kid and airlocks?”

She ignored his comment, scanning the skies for Kanan

“There!” Jondo pointed to a small but rapidly growing spec in the vast rosy sky.

She could just make out a tiny figure on top of the ship. Kanan was using the boarding wedge to force open a door just above the cockpit. She clenched her jaw until it hurt, as he struggled with the hatch.

Hera positioned the _Ghost_ to tail the other ship, out of their cannon’s line of fire. If the gunship turned suddenly, they would be well within their range, but she was counting on Kanan being a distraction. It was a gamble she was willing to take if it meant getting a clue on what was happening. Holding her course, Hera weighed her options, unsure what she could do to aid him at this point. If her ship had working controls, perhaps she could maneuver below.

“Chop, get that power distributor working!” She pleaded, her voice having lost its regular command. She knew Chopper had gone to work on the wires while Kanan had been hatching his suicidal plan. Perhaps the droid was making better progress than the two of them had.

“He’s in!” Jondo said.

She spared a quick glance at the man. He was using his cybernetics again. She squinted, making out a darkened hole that must be the hatch that Kanan had opened. But even as she watched, the bounty hunter’s ship swerved suddenly only to drop a sickening score of meters, before leveling out again.

Hera stood to keep a visual on the gunship, just barely visible in the nose gun’s viewport. She wondered what was happening inside. Had he pulled his blaster? Swung the boarding wedge? Engaged in hand to hand? Knowing Kanan, he was probably trying to sweet talk whoever was inside.

She couldn't suppress the gasp that escaped her as the gunship pitched forward.

“Not good,” she muttered. She struggled to keep the vessel in visual range, dropping the _Ghost_ lower. But the bounty hunter’s ship was losing altitude even faster.

She didn't bother stifling her cry when it dropped into a free fall, spiraling downwards.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”

A flash of light, bright enough to be seen in early evening light, marked the moment when the bounty hunter’s ship hit the Echean ground.

Jondo fell back heavily into his seat. Drawing a hand down his face, he whispered, “Oh, Kanan.”

Hera couldn’t think.

Couldn’t make sense of anything.

Her hands were doing things.

Presumably, piloting the _Ghost_. But nothing in Hera’s mind worked.  She wasn’t just numb. She was frozen. The pilot in her knew she should figure something out, but she wasn’t ready to make the logical conclusion. To take the next step.

She was dimly aware of Jondo speaking. But his words made no sense.

A weight pushed heavily on a shoulder — a hand perhaps.

A droid warbled.

The relentless alarms were suddenly silenced, leaving only a deafening echo. The quiet reverberated through her in a way that felt physically palpable.

A mechanical arm tugged on her sleeve.

She wanted to lash out at all the competition for her attention. Didn’t they understand? She had no room for the effort of niceties of communication. Nothing was working in her head, and every intrusion was an assault on her focus.

“Bwaaaa-whaaa-wap.”

Chopper had been repeating himself.

The power distributor.

The tangled mess of wires that she and Kanan had furiously worked to rewire. Chopper had come through, but only because Kanan had bought them time.

Hera nodded. With the distance of someone not entirely in possession of her body, she glanced at the console. The repulsor lift and second engines were working again.

She descended, circling the crash. She observed it with a feeling of quiet horror. A black streak of fiery wreckage against the maroon stone. They had the courtesy to crash in the flatlands, not the canyons or the low hills that ringed the area. She quickly found a level spot that was clear of detritus and boulders. A quick flip of switches lowered the cargo hold hatch at the same time as the landing gear. She was on her feet before the final lurch of contact.

Running onto the rock surface, she approached the crash, stopping when the heat of the burning gunship made her throw her arm up to shield her face. And she looked. There was no way. But still she looked.

The impact had shattered the ship and pulverized the rock beneath it. It wasn’t a controlled crash, the kind Hera had walked away from in the past. Every flammable piece of it was burning. The rest was shredded and torn like foil. The distinctive smell of ship fuel filled her nose. The barrel of one of the cannons had somehow spiked itself in solid ground, cracks radiating out from the point of impact. One of the engines had ripped off but was mostly intact. It made a wheezing noise, its ignition still glowing pink as it slowly dimmed in the gloom of dusk.

She didn’t know how long she had been pacing, moving back and forth at the edge of the destruction, like something feral and caged. The smoke seared her lungs and obscured the view, stinging her eyes. Jondo approached and tugged at her sleeve, pulling her back from the heat of the crash.

She jerked her arm away. “No!”

But he persisted, a gentle hand on her shoulder until she gave in and let him lead her.

“C’mon. We can’t stay,” he murmured, but she wasn’t sure what it meant. “We’re too close to town. They will send someone to investigate. We don’t want to be here.”

“A minute… I need… a minute.”

Her words seemed to placate Jondo, and the hold on her shoulder lessened. She dropped to her knees. But even when no one was pulling at her or trying to get her attention, even when she stopped searching for some sign of him, she found no peace. The thoughts that she had been avoiding were now pressing in hard, threatening to drown her. She willed herself not to think. If she didn’t think, then it wouldn’t be true.

So she stared across the horizon, maroon and orange, shockingly vibrant in the dying light. Her mind seized on details to avoid thinking about _him_. The craggy purple hills in the distance. The way spilled coolant turned pink stripes in the rocks to a blood red. Its chemical smells overwhelmed even the pungent ship fuel.  The feel of the sand under her knees, still warm despite the low light of the setting sun. The groan and creak of metal expanding in the fire. Heat waves rising off flames, obscuring the figure stumbling in the distance.

“Hera?” Jondo’s voice held a note of disbelief, but she was already rising to her feet.

The figure was on the far side of the crash, not in it. She took hesitating steps to skirt the wreckage.

Kanan.

Limping.

The boarding wedge hanging from one hand.

A gasp escaped Hera’s throat. And she ran. Ran into his arms and held him in a crushing embrace, as sobs wracked her body. His arms curled around her, the pry bar dropped. He murmured soothing affirmations as his fingers tightened their grip on her clothing.

She pulled away, her face a wet mess, to look at him.

“Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again,” she said biting off every word. Her fist hit his chest to emphasize her words.

“I’m sorry. I can’t promise that.”

Hera stilled, her lip quivering at the look in his eyes.

Her indignation was righteous. But it was only one story. She could walk away from this if she wanted, but Kanan didn’t have that liberty.

She recalled the feel of his lightsaber in her palm. The weight of it tied together disjointed ideas and disparate thoughts. Kanan was a Jedi. Not some storybook legend. Just a lone man in huge galaxy that would never let him forget.

She swallowed hard and nodded.

They were together at this moment, and that was enough.

“I know,” she confessed as another sob escaped her. “I know… I know…” she repeated over and over into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. Hera could feel the movement of his lips through her flight cap. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

She wasn’t sure who was comforting whom.


	12. Naked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter rated E for good sex.
> 
> No beta. Send all typos, redundant words, misplaced commas, etc to me for virtual hugs.

Kanan felt fortunate the Ghost’s water recycler replenished quickly because he took a ridiculously long time in the shower. Granted he had two weeks of filth to remove. He washed his hair twice and removed enough of a beard to impress a wookiee. Only then did he begin to feel something akin to normal. At least on the outside. His eye was still an ugly shade of purple, and his ankle was twice its normal size. He had struggled with his boot for several minutes, even debating if he needed to cut it off before he managed to tug it free.

But mostly it was his emotional state that was discombobulated. There had been a lot of talk between him and Hera leading up to the moment he had leapt out of the Ghost and next to nothing since he had limped back on.

After their reunion, Hera had taken the Ghost and set it down far from the crash site in case they had attracted attention. Then they had spent a few hours making repairs. Hera and Jondo, being more ambulatory, had checked the exterior for damage and fixed the airlock doors. Kanan and Chopper reassembled the hyperdrive, only after the droid had given him a couple of shocks. _For Hera_ he had informed Kanan. His thigh still tingled from the astromech’s electroshock prod.

There had also been questions. Surviving a crash raised some eyebrows. Ones Kanan didn’t want to address because knew he couldn’t give satisfactory answers.

“How did you survive?” Hera had asked.

Shrugging, he replied with the truth, “Jumped.”

Jondo looked incredulous.“You fall thousand of meters, and all you get is a sprained ankle!?” He gave a low whistle. “The Force is with you, Kanan.”

Kanan had looked away. He didn’t have the heart to tell the man that he had turned his ankle dropping into the gunship’s cockpit, not the freefall landing. And the fall was more like hundreds of meters, not thousands. He had cut it a little close in all honesty. When it became obvious the ship was in a death spiral, he had barely made it out of the hatch. The Force wasn’t ready for him to be one with it. His training had returned in the terrifying moments as he plummeted to the ground, allowing him to slow his descent and roll out the landing.

Leaving Lirri and the other bounty hunter in the disabled ship troubled him, although he wasn’t sure what the alternatives were. They didn’t take kindly to his boarding and panicked. Shots were fired. Not that he could blame them. He would have freaked out too if someone had forced entry into the Ghost while airborne. He didn’t usually have much of a plan, but he wondered how things would have turned out if he had given it more thought.

Once they had dropped Jondo off at his ship and left Echea’s atmosphere, Kanan had headed to the refresher and Hera plotted their hyperspace jump. Their exchanges were polite, and her body language spoke of fatigue. Whether it was of emotional origins or physical ones, Kanan didn’t know. But she seemed in ok spirits.

And she had seemed ok earlier when they all had been working on repairs, calm and composed in front of Jondo. The picture of professional efficiency.

And she had seemed ok when they had left Lirri’s fallen ship. There had been a catharsis that it was all over, the two of them holding each other amid the burning wreckage. And then Hera had slid her arm around his waist, helping him limp aboard the Ghost. She kept stealing looks at him, and he had avoided her glances not knowing how to respond.

There were no questions about whether he was coming. Or not.

Of dropping him off at the spaceport with Jondo. Or not.

Apparently, she had taken him at his word when he said he wanted to try. They both seemed to be assuming that he would stay with her on the Ghost. He just wasn’t sure what the next step was. So taking a long shower was an entirely reasonable way to avoid what would likely be a difficult conversation.

He dressed in his room, tugging a clean shirt over his damp hair and leaving his armor off. Given the size of his ankle, he skipped both socks and boots, the deck cool on his feet. There was an untraceable and faint scent of ship fuel in his cabin, but his clothes were clean and fresh. His skin felt better without the layers of grime, a welcome respite after days of sand and spilled drinks. This feeling helped give him his resolve and the realization that his stalling had come to an end.

Steeling himself, he palmed the door open, blinking as he adjusted to the bright lights of the hallway. Hera stood before him, her hand raised as if about to knock. Her expression was inscrutable. Fighting the urge to run his hand through his hair, he cupped the back of his neck.

“You wanna talk?” He hoped he had put the right intonation into the question. There was no way he could make himself sound eager, but he didn't want her to think he wasn’t willing to do the work.

“Do you?”

He smiled, shaking his head, but said, “Yes.”

She gave him a wan smile and took a tentative step towards him. He drew back in surprise.

“May I?” she asked nodding towards his room.

He silenced his internal alarms and managed a _sure,_ holding out a hand to invite her in. She brushed past him to sit on his bunk. There was a familiarity to it that set him off balance. He couldn’t ever recall her coming into his cabin.

He chose the bench, perched on the edge as he resisted the urge to run his hands through his hair yet again. Swallowing, he realized it was time to put all his cards on the table. The words bubbled out in a rush. “Hera, I’m here because you wanted me to try. But I don’t know what any of this means.”

She studied him for a moment, before kicking her boots off.

“I don’t either.” Her voice was soft as she drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees, looking small on his bed. “The only way I know how to get past this is to talk.”

He nodded, unable to look up.

“What I want to know is why?” Her voice wavered, “I— I don’t understand.”

Kanan took a deep breath and then the words were tumbling out. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been running for so long, that I forget what the real threats are. Running from who I was. Running from who I am. But when I’m with you — really with you — I know who I am, and I’m whole. Until the fears creep in and I mess it all up again. And I took advantage of your kindness and used you. And for that, I’m so very sorry.”

She jutted her jaw forward as she regarded him warily. “The listening station brought up memories?”

Kanan pursed his lips. It felt like diving into waters where he couldn’t even see the surface, let alone the bottom. There was no other way around it except through it.

“Yes. The station. Jondo. The clone trooper from the holo recording. Even the ration bars. All of it.” He drew his hand down his face. “But the worst wasn’t the reminders. The worst is the future. The vision I had...”  He started then stopped. Sighing, he finally met her eyes. “Hera, The Order fell years ago, but it doesn’t end for me.”

She sat back, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?

Kanan leaned his head against the wall behind him, closing his eyes.  “The vision showed me doing— being a Jedi. Always conflict. It’s been nine years since I’ve seen another Jedi, yet I can’t leave it as much as I try.” He laughed bitterly. “You know what the bounty for Kanan Jarrus is? The one Lirri came after me for? Fifty thousand credits. You know what a bounty for a Jedi is? Twenty million.

“You can’t outrun that kind of bounty, yet I saw myself wielding a lightsaber again and again. I’ve been trying to avoid what I am, but for some reason, I will choose that path. The first time I had no other option. It was all I knew. All I wanted. But to choose it again?”

He tried to ignore the ache in his throat as he shook his head. “And Hera, I don’t want you pulled into that. I would rather we go our separate ways than taking you down with me.”

Kanan risked a glance at her and stiffened at the thundercloud of emotions on her face.

“You’ve left me once. You can do it again. Is that what you want?”  she snapped, rising from the bunk. “To decide whether we have a relationship or not. Is that fair to me?”

Hera bit her lip for a second before continuing, finding a calm. “Or is it something we can do together? I can decide how much danger I’m willing to put myself in by being with you? And you can decide how much risk you’re willing to endure by running with me?”

Kanan frowned at the shift in the conversation. He had been confessing, and now she was challenging him. He was mentally scrambling to keep up. “Is that what you want? To be with someone whose odds of surviving are, well, slim? If the Empire found out, you would be executed for harboring a Force user.”

Hera took a step towards him, her face intent. “For you? Yes. Even if we weren’t lovers, you are worth fighting the Empire for. The memory of what was done to the Jedi is worth fighting for, and dying if it comes to it. So please, don’t try to make that decision for me. Whatever we do, we do it together.”

Kanan had to look away.

When she moved in close enough to nudge his leg with hers and rest a tentative hand on his shoulder, his arm darted out, pulling her to him.  He buried his face in her chest and clutched at her. His feelings were threatening to flood him, and she was the only thing that kept him from drowning. Curling around him, Hera pressed her face into the top of his head and breathed.

“I also wanted to say I’m sorry,” she murmured. Kanan could barely make out her words.

“Wait, what?” he said past the lump in his throat as he pulled away to look at her.

She sighed, studying him for a moment before throwing a leg over his and sitting on his lap. He frowned at the dissonance between her words and the intimacies of her actions but made no move to stop her.

Her hand moved to tracing the edges of his cheek as she searched for words.  

“I can get caught up in my world, of filtering everything through what’s important to me, about fighting the Empire. I didn't see the big picture-”

“Hera, no! You’ve done nothing wrong. Please don’t stop being you.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m just seeing the ways I’ve made things more difficult by focusing on some things and ignoring other things.”

“Like what?” he asked looking at her dubiously.

“Like rules around when and where.”

“That was never an issue. Not really.”

She frowned. “Maybe not for you but I think it was for me.” Hera sighed before continuing, “And forgetting you have your own history. Your own priorities. It may not always line up with my agenda, but you’ve never been anything but supportive. And I’ve not always paid attention.”

Kanan became very still. “I don’t deserve this.”

She dipped her head to catch his eyes, searching them. “I believe you do,” she said resting her forehead against his.

Kanan tightened his hands on her back before pulling away. “I’m the one that should be apologizing. I’m an idiot. I thought I could pretend it would all be fine. I didn’t talk. I pushed you away. I ran. I used you. I used your body. I made things worse— “

“Yes...“

“I did it on purpose. I betrayed your trust—”

“I know...”

“I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“Yes...”

Kanan choked as a well of regret flooded him, and he finally raised his eyes to meet hers.

“I know,” she whispered, holding his face in her hands. “Apology accepted.”

“But— “

“It’s enough.”

She pulled him into an embrace, telling him without words how he had hurt her, but hurting together was far better than hurting alone. And as her fingers pressed into his shoulders gripping him ever tighter he felt her trust. She saw something in him worthy of acceptance. His body shook with tremors of relief and remorse, his tears dampening her neck.

He was breaking but somehow not falling apart.

And she was right there giving him small kisses down his forehead as their shaking subsided. When he turned to face her, she kissed his tears, tracing their path down his cheeks, before pressing her lips to edge of his mouth. She finally gave in to the pull of intimacy, pressing her lips to his. And he kissed her back. It was unclear which of them deepened the chaste comfort kisses into something more passionate.

Kanan broke it off first, clearing his throat and resting his forehead against hers. “Are we doing this? Are you sure? I messed it up last time.”

She sniffed and nodded. “You’re right. We need to talk.”

Kanan leaned back against the wall, flexing and opening his hands in an attempt to slow his racing heart. Not kissing was disappointing, but his heart was lighter. Doing the right thing was far more rewarding. If she got off of his lap, he might be able to focus too, but he was loathe to push her away. She made no move to leave, instead, sitting there watching him with an unreadable expression.

Tugging at her gloves, she pulled them off and laid them on the bench next to Kanan. His confusion must have shown because she gave him an unexpected smirk.

“How about we do a little of both? You answer my questions then we do … _things…_ for a bit.”

Grinning, he moved to embrace her, but she held a hand up. “Uh-uh. Talk first.”

Kanan pressed his palms into the bench on either side of her knees. “Alright then, fire away!”

She considered him for a long moment. The thrill of what was coming got lost in a wave of apprehension, about where she would go with her questioning.

“What’s your favorite food?”

He snorted. “This is the type of talking you want to do?”

She glared at him until he amended his comments. “Fine. Um, anything with you.” He tempted fate by giving her his best smoldering look. It was ruined when he had to suppress a sniffle.

She slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m serious.”

“Oh, ok. Umm, flatcakes.”

Hera rewarded him with a smile.

“— with you,” he added.

She rolled her eyes but leaned in and gave him a slow lingering kiss, her mouth barely parted. Realizing this was Hera’s show, Kanan kept his hands to himself, savoring the feel of the softness of her lips.

Pulling away, she kept her mouth close enough to his that he could smell the sweetness of her breath. “What are you afraid of?”

“The dark,” he replied solemnly.  

She drew back, glaring at him, letting him know she wasn’t amused at his deflection.

“Well, I used to be. When I was little. They put in a night light for me in the creche. It used to keep the other younglings awake. But I slept much better.”

She tried to suppress a smile as she reached up to free the headphones from her ear cones. She dragged them and her goggles down, before working her cap off. Time slowed down when she shook her lekku free.

Kanan gulped, suddenly realizing how his evening might play out.  His eyes didn’t leave the quiver of her head tails while his mouth kept going of its own accord. “And not living up to your expectations.”

Her eyebrows quirked in sympathy at this. Her hands went to her shoulder armor, unfastening it. They went to the growing pile of accessories next to Kanan. She looked slight without the extra bulk on her shoulders and around her temples. Kanan felt a shiver go down his spine at her vulnerability. She was having him bare his soul while she bared her body.

Taking a deep breath, he added, “And my past catching up with me.”

She gave him a sad smile even as she unfastened her vest from her pants. Her fingers gripped the edges of it, moving to pull it over her head. The waist of her pants had fallen low around her hips, and her shirt had ridden up, revealing her navel. He watched her hungrily, allowing himself to study her in a way that wouldn’t have been polite in other circumstances.

She dropped her vest onto the pile and draped her arms over his shoulders, leaning in to give him a slow, drawn out kiss, deep and wet. He pulled at her hips, wanting to feel more of her against him.  

But like the earlier kiss, Hera was on a timetable all her own. She pulled away to stand before him then gave him a sidelong glance as if she was debating something. Kanan for his part could only stare at her with his mouth agape, mourning the loss of her warmth. He swallowed when her hands dropped to gripping the bottom edge of her shirt.

Her green eyes held his with an unnerving intensity. “Are you jealous of Jondo?”

The reward was tantalizing, but she knew how to up to the stakes. Kanan drew back, drawing his hand down his face before giving his beard a tug. Staring past her into the darkened cabin, he considered her question.

“No. I mean yes. But maybe not in the way it might appear. I didn’t like it when he was friendly with you. But that’s sorta a baseless knee-jerk reaction and me being stupid. I assume it comes with the territory of being involved with someone and not being sure what we mean to each other.”

Kanan chewed his lip and thought for a moment before continuing. “No, it was knowing that he made a better revolutionary than I did that ate at me. And the fear that I would never measure up for you.”

For a brief moment, it looked like she wanted to embrace him. Kanan wasn’t ready for sympathy, and he averted his eyes.

There was the soft rustle of clothing being shed before her next question. “Where are you from?”

“Originally?” Glancing at her, his voice faltered.

She was standing in the middle of the room, topless, dimly illuminated by the low light. The edge of her flight pants fell over her belt. A haphazardly wrapped bandage around her upper arm. Kanan felt a pang of remorse, imagining Chopper helping her now. But it was the lines of her clavicles set above the swell of her breasts that held his attention. Hera was wearing a flesh-toned bra,  one that had a bit of trim at the edges. The sight of the emerald green lace dipping between her cleavage, a tiny glimmer of feminine expression, made Kanan stumble over his words. “No idea where...”

She squinted her eyes at him. “You’re telling the truth.”

He raised his eyes, concentrating on her face. On the shape of her cheekbones, the point of her chin, the fullness of her lips. He blinked and looked away. He needed to if he was going to answer her question.

“The answer is— was—  in the Jedi archives. But it's never defined me, so I had no desire to know the truth. And knowing my parents now would mean I would want to find them and they are probably being watched still. I don’t need to bring that sort of pain on them by looking for them. So I don’t think of it.”

Hera reached for his shirt, grabbing the fabric at his stomach and untucking it. Her hands snaked under it to brush against his skin, before sliding the shirt up and over his head. She fingered his collar bone and before trailing her fingertips down his chest and across his belly, making him shiver. She hummed, slipping one finger in his waistband teasingly. Kanan gripped her hand, leaning in to meet her mouth in a kiss.

Hera pulled away enough to murmur against his lips. “So you _are_ a Jedi.”

She was good. Kanan kept noticing what her tongue was doing to his own, or how her nipples were hard against the fabric of her bra. So when she asked the inevitable question, he wasn’t thinking too hard on it.

“No.”

He reached out to trace the strap of her bra, wanting to push it off her shoulder.

“No?” she asked.

He sighed, realizing he would need to clarify before anything more interesting would happen.

“I was, but not anymore. The Jedi Order is dead. And I was never a Knight if that’s what you are wondering. Just a kid. A padawan. Now I’m just some guy cursed with Force abilities and on the Empire's most wanted list.”

“Thank you.”

His throat ached at her sincerity. He told her something that he had been trying to deny for so long, and her response was to express gratitude. He bobbed his head in something he hoped she would interpret as an acknowledgment, dropping his gaze.

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw her hands go to the clasp of her bra. Before she could remove it, Kanan spoke. His voice had a rough edge. “If you keep going, I don’t know how coherent my answers will be.”

There was a sudden relaxation in the straps of her bra as she unclasped it. Shrugging them off her shoulders, she said, “I’ll have to keep my questions simple then.”

Kanan swallowed audibly, his gaze dropping to her chest. He'd seen her naked breasts before. He had caressed them, kissed them. But at this moment, her beauty was making him ache.

“Do you love me?” she asked.

His response was immediate and his voice certain, as his eyes rose to meet hers. “Yes.”

Hera gave him a small smile as she rose from the bed, tugging his hand to pull him to standing again. If this was news to her, she didn’t look surprised. Her fingers went to his belt, loosening it before unfastening his fly. Kanan drew in a ragged breath as her hands slid under his waistband, working it downwards over his hips. Her body brushed against his in the process, sending a jolt of desire through him.

He sucked in his breath when her hand grazed his erection. It became a moan, as she gripped him, freeing him from his underwear. Her fingers left trails down the sides of his thighs as she pulled his pants down. She knelt in front of him as he shifted, kicking his clothing free, letting out a hiss when he put too much weight on his ankle. He could feel her breath on his thighs as she stripped him and he resisted the urge to cup her head, to stroke her lekku.

“For how long?”

Kanan closed his eyes trying to focus on answering her question. He cleared his throat before speaking. “Forever. Or at least Gorse.  But I’ve been waiting for you longer than I knew you existed.”

He sensed more than heard her standing.

“When did you know for sure?”

“On Echea. Probably before. I can be pretty dense.” He smiled but kept his eyes closed.

There was a metallic clink of her belt loosening.

“The cantina?”

“Hmmm,” he acknowledged. This was followed by more rustling and the soft caress of her flight pants brushing his legs as she shed them.

“Do you know that I love you?”

Kanan opened his eyes at the question. She too stood naked in front of him a shy smile on her lips.

“No.” It was a whispered doubt.

His eyes searched hers afraid to see her sincerity, despite knowing it was true. She wouldn’t toy with him that way.

“I do.”

Hera stood close enough that he could feel her warmth. Her breath was caressing his cheek as she looked at him. And then she moved even closer. His cock nudged her belly. Her nipples grazed his chest. Her hands gripped his hips, pulling him closer still. Kanan kept his hands at his sides. Afraid to move.

“Why do you doubt me?”

“Because if it’s true, it can also end,” he said. He was too enthralled to filter his innermost fears.

“That I’ll leave you?” she asked, frowning.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I just know that this is precious.”

Hera had stopped making overtures and instead studied his face, craning her head to do so. “You said if you don’t leave, you would never leave. Did you mean that?”

Kanan swallowed unable to take his eyes from hers. Everything hurt, but he had decided to stop running. So he faced the pain head on. “Yes.”

She threaded her fingers through his, studying his hand. “Then let’s do this.” She brought his hand to her lips for a kiss that felt oddly more intimate than the one on his lips. “Together,” she whispered.

Whatever had been holding him back was gone. He had stepped off the cliff, and while it was still overwhelming, he had yet to hit the ground. To love Hera as much as she loved him was all he needed.

Bringing her hand to his mouth, he murmured, “Always.”

Their eyes locked for a long moment before Hera rose on her toes and Kanan dipped his head. Their eyes fluttered shut as mouths met, each responding almost shyly, lips soft.  Then her body melted into his, draping her arms over his shoulders. His hands slid behind her back.  As their bodies relaxed, the kiss deepened. He parted his lips. Her tongue swirled over his. Each point of contact drawing them further into the other.

Hera has stripped him, removing clothing and emotional barriers, reducing him to only his naked heart. But when she gripped the back of his neck and traced kisses along his jaw, he didn’t feel exposed and vulnerable, but whole.

When she pushed her hips against his, surging against him in a slow grind, it wasn’t lust that drove him to grip her to him, his fingers pressing into her flesh, but honesty.

When she pushed him onto the bed, it wasn’t passion that made him pull her with him, but truth.

When she straddled him, and his fingers skimmed the rise of her ribs to cup her breasts, it wasn’t hunger, but acceptance.

“Hera, I want this.”

She leaned forward, her lekku swinging on either side of their heads and studied him before leaning in to plant wet kisses along his neck. “Then why do you jump out of ships,” she asked nipping his ear, “and leave me?”

A wave of goosebumps rippled across his skin from the timber of her voice.

“Because I’m an idiot?”

He turned to capture her lips with another kiss. But she pushed herself up, to look at him with sadness and love.

“Yes, you are.”

She moved her hips further down his body until she trapped his erection between them.

Sighing she added, “We all are.”

He sucked in his breath at the feel of her wet heat on him, moaning as she rolled her hips, sliding along his length.

He put his hand on her waist, his thumbs resting on the crest of her hip bones. As she moved to her own rhythm, he provided a counter moment by arching his back. Pressing into her, he lifted his hips until her head bumped the top bunk.

She made an inarticulate noise, before placing a hand on his chest and murmured with a smile, “Yes.”  This time when she rolled she changed the angle of her hips, his cock nudging instead of sliding under her. Her body yielded to his, her warmth surrounding him. When their bodies came together, it felt stronger than anything the Force could show him.  

“He-ra…” he groaned.

“Yes, love?” It was scarcely more than an exhalation.

He opened his eyes at the endearment to watch her move on him, forgetting what he wanted to say. Her eyes were half-lidded with passion, and her chin ducked to keep from hitting the top bunk. Her breasts were too perfect to not kiss, so he rose to take one in his mouth, his tongue swirling over it. Her purring response was its own reward.

Their languid strokes were starting to build. Kanan fell back on his elbows, finally remembering what he wanted to say. “The bottom … drawer.”

Hera stopped her motion, blinking, as she processed his words. Nodding with understanding, she withdrew, leaning down to reach under the bunk. He was thankful that he didn’t need to use more Basic to explain himself but felt sadness at their separation.

Kanan used the opening she presented to caress the inside of her thighs. His fingers drew circles as he slid his hands closer and closer towards the apex of her legs. He was disappointed when his upward exploration was cut short as Hera placed a condom in his hands.  She rose bracing against the underside of the bunk so that he could roll it on. Its distinctive odor overpowered the smell of their bodies.

Then Hera was gripping him, guiding his erection into her. She lowered herself by excruciatingly slow degrees until he made a strangled sound. Satisfied she had gotten the response she wanted from her teasing, she lowered herself fully onto him. They both sighed in unison pausing to feel the new sensation of connection. Two beings occupying the same space. Hera twined her fingers in his as she leaned forward a hand on either side of his head, as she set their pace.

Her movement was slow and deep. Kanan felt content to die a slow death as she made love to him in a manner that satisfied her, undulating in a rhythm that felt like the ocean rocking him.

But even she couldn’t draw it out forever. He knew she was close when she buried her face in his neck, leaning forward to increase her pace. Their penetration was shallower, but she rode him harder. Her nipples grazing his chest as her breath quickened. He released her fingers to wrap his arms around her back, pulling her against his hips with every downbeat. She let out a new sound, not her subdued, almost sighs. But louder and feral. It was this vocal abandon that pushed Kanan to the edge.

Hera— the pilot, the Twi’lek, the revolutionary—  was gone. And Kanan— the lost padawan, the roughneck, the doubter— ceased to exist. They were simply two beings obeying their basest desires.

Her body shuddered as she called out, loud and clear and wordless. He followed with a final thrust, gasping her name. Their cries reverberated through their bodies and they clung to each other in a quivering heap. Hera lay heavily on him, his sweat mixed with hers. Her exhalation became his inhalation. Kanan was grateful to be lying down. The room felt like it was moving, as if the Ghost had gone into a tailspin.

“Now do you believe,” she asked between breaths, “that I love you?” Her eyes were closed. She rested her forehead against him, smashing her nose against his.

Kanan tilted his head so that he could press his lips against hers, a slow lingering kiss. “Stars, yes.” He ran a hand down her lek, wondering about second chances and how he had deserved someone like Hera Syndulla.

They held each other for a long moment before he nudged her. She rolled off him with a self-satisfied sigh. He cleaned up the evidence of their lovemaking and then sat on the edge of the bed, hesitating. He knew that if he returned to the soft warmth of Hera’s arms, they would both drift off and then it would be too hard to say the things that still needed to be said. Her breathing had already deepened, and her eyelids were drooping.

He wanted to do the right thing, so he stood.

“Hmmm?” she asked blearily.

“I want to show you something.”

She blinked and rose to an elbow propping her head up.  “Ok.” Her curiosity fought with her drowsiness.

He knelt on the floor opening the drawer at the head of the bunk. He knew the contents were still there as soon as he had stepped back on the Ghost. The gentle tug in the Force upon his return had alerted him to their presence.

“I’ve seen your lightsaber,” Hera said.

He smiled. “But you didn’t get rid of it?”

“I didn’t have the chance. I never left Echea’s orbit. But I don’t know if I could’ve spaced it anyways.”

Kanan chuckled, “I know the feeling.” He pulled the two cylinders out and placed them next to Hera on the bunk where it was still warm from his body. “Jedi are told that your lightsaber is your life.’”

Hera sat up at this point, looking gut-wrenchingly beautiful.  Her lekku were relaxed and draped over each shoulder in a graceful arc before dropping to a point. She sat cross-legged with his blanket pulled over her lap, one leg peeking out. Her breasts were bare. A flush across her cheeks and high on her chest was a lingering reminder of their lovemaking.

“Is that why you keep yours in two parts?” she held a piece in each palm as if she was weighing them.

Kanan drew back, laughing. “Maybe. Probably.” Shaking his head, he continued, “My vision showed me that it always comes back to fighting, to this weapon. But that wasn’t what I wanted to show you.”

Accepting Hera also meant accepting the role of his lightsaber in some possible future. This understanding brought him some equanimity. But Hera’s eyes were sad. He gave her a reassuring smile. Future conflict wasn’t what this moment was about. “No, what I wanted to show you was this.”

Kanan knelt naked on the floor, his lover naked in his bed, the Holocron in the palm of his hand. Finding his focus in the Force, he opened the cube. It vibrated as the corners of the device peeled off and spun in the air. The dim room lit up with blue lights of star systems, projections of knowledge for his future self or a long gone padawan.

Startled, Hera drew in a breath.

He sighed and closed his eyes. It was easier that way.

“My real name isn't Kanan Jarrus. The first name I had, my given name, is Caleb Dume.”

Without conscious thought, he mentally reached into the Holocron and pulled out a particular holovid. The one he had watched over and over until he decided to forget instead of continuing to inflict pain on himself.  But this time he chose it not as punishment but sharing a piece of who he once was. A piece of who he might still be.

“And this was my master.”

Kanan opened his eyes to find Hera’s meeting his own, a gentle smile on her lips with his lightsaber on her lap. The projection of Depa silently animated between them.

In the instant of confessing, Kanan recognized his past, present, and future. They were all threads tied together in a single moment. Threads that could not be outrun or severed.

They could only be lived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing.
> 
> Again, special thank you to Cyndermizuki for the initial prompt that got things rolling.
> 
> Now that I've completed this, my first longform/novel length story, I wanted to extend an invitation for concrit as I would like to improve my writing. So please share your constructive and helpful comments. Long or short, all are welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> I post writing updates and snippets semi-regularly on Tumblr as [MapToWhereIAlreadyAm](http://maptowhereialreadyam.tumblr.com/tagged/my+fic).


End file.
